UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 

C.      G.     De  Garmo 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT 
OR,  CATHARINE  PARR 


historical  Nooel 


BY 

L.  MUHLBACH 


AUTHOR   OF   FREDERICK   THE   GREAT   AND   HIS  COURT,  JOSEPH  II.   AND  HIS  COUHT, 
MERCHANT  OF   BERLIN,   ETC. 


FROM   THE    GERMAN,    BY 

REV.  H.  N,  PIERCE,  D.  D. 


NEW   YORK 

A.    L.   FOWLE,    PUBLISHER 
1905 


COPYRIGHT,  1864, 
BT  «.  H.  GOKTZEL. 

COPTTUOHT,  1887, 
BT  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


TT 

•£4-38 


1905 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — Choosing  a  Confessor 1 

II.— The  Queen  and  her  Friend 10 

III.— King  Henry  the  Eighth 20 

IV.— King  by  the  Wrath  of  God  .        .        .        .        .        .  29 

V.— The  Rivals 41 

VI. — The  Intercession 51 

VII. — Henry  the  Eighth  and  his  Wives         ....  55 

VIII.— Father  and  Daughter 73 

IX. — Lendemain 86 

X.— The  King's  Fool 91 

XL— The  Ride 102 

XII.— The  Declaration 109 

XIII.— "  Le  Roi  s'ennuit " 120 

XIV.— The  Queen's  Friend 130 

XV.— John  Heywood 141 

XVI.— The  Confidant 148 

XVII.— Gammer  Gurton's  Needle 159 

XVIII.— Lady  Jane .  170 

XIX.— Loyola's  General 178 

XX.— The  Prisoner 185 

XXL— Princess  Elizabeth 198 

XXII. —Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey 213 

XXIII. —Brother  and  Sister       .        .        .        .        .        .        .219 

XXIV.— The  Queen's  Toilet       .                         ....  230 


4GG61? 


iv  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

CHAPTER  PAD* 

XXV.—  The  Queen's  Rosette 250 

XXVI.— Revenge 273 

XXVII.— The  Acknowledgment 282 

XXXIII.— Intrigues     .........    294 

XXIX.— The  Accusation  .        .        .       .       .       .        .        .302 

XXX.— The  Feast  of  Death    .        .        ...       .        .316 

XXXI.— The  Queen .      ~7       .328 

XXXII.— Undeceived         .        .        .        .    /.       .       .       .347 

XXXIII.— New  Intrigues -  ..       .885 

XXXIV.— The  King  and  the  Priest 873 

XXXV.— Chess-Play 887 

XXXVI.— The  Catastrophe         . 407 

XXXVII.—"  Le  Roi  est  Mort— Vive  la  Reine ! "  .420 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


FACI1CO 
PAGE 

Portrait  of  Henry  VIII Frontf»ptec« 

The  Appeal  of  Anne  Askew 30 

Portrait  of  Queen  Catharine  Parr 102 

Gammer  Gurton's  Quarrel  with  Hodge 164 

The  Execution  of  Henry  Howard 364 

v 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CHOOSING  A   COtfFESSOB. 

IT  was  in  the  year  1543.  King  Henry  the  Eighth  of 
England  that  day  once  more  pronounced  himself  the  hap- 
piest and  most  enviable  man  in  his  kingdom,  for  to-day 
he  was  once  more  a  bridegroom,  and  Catharine  Parr,  the 
youthful  widow  of  Baron  Latimer,  had  the  perilous  happi- 
ness of  being  selected  as  the  king's  sixth  consort. 

Merrily  chimed  the  bells  of  all  the  steeples  of  London, 
announcing  to  the  people  the  commencement  of  that  holy 
ceremony  which  sacredly  bound  Catharine  Parr  to  the  king 
as  his  sixth  wife.  The  people,  ever  fond  of  novelty  and 
show,  crowded  through  the  streets  toward  the  royal  palace 
to  catch  a  sight  of  Catharine,  when  she  appeared  at  her 
husband's  side  upon  the  balcony,  to  show  herself  to  the 
English  people  as  their  queen,  and  to  receive  their  homage 
in  return. 

Surely  it  was  a  proud  and  lofty  success  for  the  widow 
of  a  petty  baron  to  become  the  lawful  wife  of  the  King  of 
England,  and  to  wear  upon  her  brow  a  royal  crown!  But 
yet  Catharine  Parr's  heart  was  moved  with  a  strange  fear, 
her  cheeks  were  pale  and  cold,  and  before  the  altar  her 
closely  compressed  lips  scarcely  had  the  power  to  part,  and 
pronounce  the  binding  "  I  will." 

At  last  the  sacred  ceremony  was  completed.  The  two 
spiritual  dignitaries,  Gardiner,  bishop  of  Winchester,  and 

1 


2  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

Crannier,  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  then,  in  accordance 
with  court  etiquette,  led  the  young  bride  into  her  apart- 
ments, in  order  to  bless  them,  and  once  more  to  pray  with 
her,  before  the  worldly  festivities  should  begin. 

Catharine,  however,  pale  and  agitated,  had  yet  sus- 
tained her  part  in  the  various  ceremonies  of  the  day  with 
a  true  queenly  bearing  and  dignity;  and,  as  now  with  head 
proudly  erect  and  firm  step,  she  walked  with  a  bishop  at 
either  side  through  the  splendid  apartments,  no  one  sus- 
pected how  heavy  a  burden  weighed  upon  her  heart,  and 
what  baleful  voices  were  whispering  in  her  breast. 

Followed  by  her  new  court,  she  had  traversed  with  her 
companions  the  state  apartments,  and  now  reached  the 
inner  rooms.  Here,  according  to  the  etiquette  of  the  time, 
she  must  dismiss  her  court,  and  only  the  two  bishops  and 
her  ladies  of  honor  were  permitted  to  accompany  the  queen 
into  the  drawing-room.  But  farther  than  this  chamber 
even  the  bishops  themselves  might  not  follow  her.  The 
king  himself  had  written  down  the  order  for  the  day,  and 
he  who  swerved  from  this  order  in  the  most  insignificant 
point  would  have  been  proclaimed  guilty  of  high  treason, 
and  perhaps  have  been  led  out  to  death. 

Catharine,  therefore,  turned  with  a  languid  smile  to 
the  two  high  ecclesiastics,  and  requested  them  to  await 
here  her  summons.  Then  beckoning  to  her  ladies  of  honor, 
she  withdrew  into  her  boudoir. 

The  two  bishops  remained  by  themselves  in  the  draw- 
ing-room. The  circumstance  of  their  being  alone  seemed 
to  impress  them  both  alike  and  unpleasantly;  for  a  dark 
scowl  gathered  on  the  brows  of  both,  and  they  withdrew,  as 
if  at  a  concerted  signal,  to  the  opposite  sides  of  the  spacious 
apartment. 

A  long  pause  ensued.  Nothing  was  heard  save  the 
regular  ticking  of  a  large  clock  of  rare  workmanship  which 
stood  over  the  fireplace,  and  from  the  street  afar  off,  the 
rejoicing  of  the  people,  who  surged  toward  the  palace  like 
a  roaring  sea. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  3 

Gardiner  had  stepped  to  the  window,  and  was  looking 
up  with  his  peculiar  dark  smile  at  the  clouds  which,  driven 
by  the  tempest,  were  sweeping  across  the  heavens. 

Cranmer  stood  by  the  wall  on  the  opposite  side,  and 
sunk  in  sad  thoughts,  was  contemplating  a  large  portrait 
of  Henry  the  Eighth,  the  masterly  production  of  Holbein. 
As  he  gazed  on  that  countenance,  indicative  at  once  of  so 
much  dignity  and  so  much  ferocity;  as  he  contemplated 
those  eyes  which  shone  with  such  gloomy  severity,  those 
lips  on  which  was  a  smile  at  once  voluptuous  and  fierce, 
there  came  over  him  a  feeling  of  deep  sympathy  with 
the  young  woman  whom  he  had  that  day  devoted  to  such 
splendid  misery.  He  reflected  that  he  had,  in  like  man- 
ner, already  conducted  two  wives  of  the  king  to  the  mar- 
riage altar,  and  had  blessed  their  union.  But  he  reflected, 
too,  that  he  had  also,  afterward,  attended  both  these 
queens  when  they  ascended  the  scaffold. 

How  easily  might  this  pitiable  young  wife  of  the  king 
fall  a  victim  to  the  same  dark  fate!  How  easily  might 
Catharine  Parr,  like  Anne  Boleyn  and  Catharine  Howard, 
purchase  her  short-lived  glory  with  an  ignominious  death! 
At  any  time  an  inconsiderate  word,  a  look,  a  smile,  might 
be  her  ruin.  For  the  king's  choler  and  jealousy  were  incal- 
culable, and,  to  his  cruelty,  no  punishment  seemed  too 
severe  for  those  by  whom  he  fancied  himself  injured. 

Such  were  the  thoughts  which  occupied  Bishop  Cran- 
mer. They  softened  him,  and  caused  the  dark  wrinkles  to 
disappear  from  his  brow. 

He  now  smiled  to  himself  at  the  ill-humor  which  he 
had  felt  shortly  before,  and  upbraided  himself  for  having 
been  so  little  mindful  of  his  holy  calling,  and  for  having 
exhibited  so  little  readiness  to  meet  his  enemy  in  a  con- 
ciliating spirit. 

For  Gardiner  was  his  enemy:  that  Cranmer  very  well 
knew.  Gardiner  had  often  enough  showed  him  this  by  his 
deeds,  as  he  had  also  taken  pains  by  his  words  to  assure 
him  of  his  friendship. 


4  HENRY    VIIL    AND   HIS   COURT. 

But  even  if  Gardiner  hated  him,  it  did  not  therefore 
follow  that  Cranmer  was  obliged  to  return  that  hatred; 
that  he  should  denominate  him  his  enemy,  whom  he,  in 
virtue  of  their  mutual  high  calling,  was  bound  to  honor 
and  love  as  his  brother. 

The  noble  Cranmer  was,  therefore,  ashamed  of  his  mo- 
mentary ill-humor.  A  gentle  smile  lighted  up  his  peaceful 
countenance.  With  an  air  at  once  dignified  and  friendly, 
he  crossed  the  room  and  approached  the  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester. 

Lord  Gardiner  turned  toward  him  with  morose  looks, 
and,  without  advancing  from  the  embrasure  of  the  window 
in  which  he  was  standing,  waited  for  Cranmer  to  advance 
to  him.  As  he  looked  into  that  noble,  smiling  countenance, 
he  had  a  feeling  as  if  he  must  raise  his  fist  and  dash  it 
into  the  face  of  this  man,  who  had  the  boldness  to  wish 
to  be  his  equal,  and  to  contend  with  him  for  fame  and 
honor. 

But  he  reflected  in  good  time  that  Cranmer  was  still 
the  king's  favorite,  and  therefore  he  must  proceed  to  work 
against  him  with  great  caution. 

So  he  forced  these  fierce  thoughts  back  into  his  heart, 
and  let  his  face  again  assume  its  wonted  grave  and  impene- 
trable expression. 

Cranmer  now  stood  close  before  him,  and  his  bright, 
beaming  eye  was  fixed  upon  Gardiner's  sullen  countenance. 

"  I  come  to  your  highness,"  said  Cranmer,  in  his  gentle, 
pleasant  voice,  "  to  say  to  you  that  I  wish  with  my  whole 
heart  the  queen  may  choose  you  for  her  confessor  and 
spiritual  director,  and  to  assure  you  that,  should  this  be  the 
case,  there  will  not  be  in  my  soul,  on  that  account,  the 
least  rancor,  or  the  slightest  dissatisfaction.  I  shall  fully 
comprehend  it,  if  her  majesty  chooses  the  distinguishr.l 
and  eminent  Bishop  of  Winchester  as  her  confessor,  and 
the  esteem  and  admiration  which  I  entertain  for  you  can 
only  be  enhanced  thereby.  In  confirmation  of  this,  permit 
me  to  offer  you  my  hand." 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HJS   COURT.  5 

He  presented  his  hand  to  Gardiner,  who,  however,  took 
it  reluctantly  and  but  for  a  moment. 

"  Your  highness  is  very  noble,  and  at  the  same  time 
a  very  subtle  diplomatist,  for  you  only  wish  in  an  adroit 
and  ingenious  way  to  give  me  to  understand  how  I  am 
to  act  should  the  queen  choose  you  for  her  spiritual  di- 
rector. But  that  she  will  do  so,  you  know  as  well  as  I.  It 
is,  therefore,  for  me  only  a  humiliation  which  etiquette 
imposes  when  she  compels  me  to  stand  here  and  wait  to 
see  whether  I  shall  be  chosen,  or  contemptuously  thrust 
aside." 

"Why  will  you  look  at  matters  in  so  unfriendly  a 
light?"  said  Cranmer,  gently.  "Wherefore  will  you  con- 
sider it  a  mark  of  contempt,  if  you  are  not  chosen  to  an 
office  to  which,  indeed,  neither  merit  nor  worthiness  can 
call  us,  but  only  the  personal  confidence  of  a  yeung 
woman?" 

"Oh!  you  admit  that  I  shall  not  be  chosen?"  cried 
Gardiner,  with  a  malicious  smile. 

"  I  have  already  told  you  that  I  am  wholly  uninformed 
as  to  the  queen's  wish,  and  I  think  it  is  known  that  the 
Bishop  of  Canterbury  is  wont  to  speak  the  truth." 

"  Certainly  that  is  known,  but  it  is  known  also  that 
Catharine  Parr  was  a  warm  admirer  of  the  Bishop  of  Can- 
terbury; and  now  that  she  has  gained  her  end  and  become 
queen,  she  will  make  it  her  duty  to  show  her  gratitude 
to  him." 

"You  would  by  that  insinuate  that  I  have  made  her 
queen.  But  I  assure  your  highness,  that  here  also,  as  in 
so  many  other  matters  which  relate  to  myself,  you  are 
falsely  informed." 

"  Possibly!  "  said  Gardiner,  coldly.  "  At  any  rate,  it 
is  certain  that  the  young  queen  is  an  ardent  advocate  of 
the  abominable  new  doctrine  which,  like  the  plague,  has 
spread  itself  from  Germany  over  all  Europe,  and  scattered 
mischief  and  ruin  through  all  Christendom.  Yes,  Catha- 
rine Parr,  the  present  queen,  leans  to  that  heretic  against 


6  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

whom  the  Holy  Father  at  Rome  has  hurled  his  crushing 
anathema.  She  is  an  adherent  of  the  Reformation." 

"  You  forget,"  said  Cranmer,  with  an  arch  smile,  "  that 
this  anathema  was  hurled  against  the  head  of  our  king 
also,  and  that  it  has  shown  itself  equally  ineffectual  against 
Henry  the  Eighth  as  against  Luther.  Besides,  I  might  re- 
mind you  that  we  no  longer  call  the  Pope  of  Rome,  '  Holy 
Father,'  and  that  you  yourself  have  recognized  the  king  as 
the  head  of  our  church." 

Gardiner  turned  away  his  face  in  order  to  conceal  the 
vexation  and  rage  which  distorted  his  features.  He  felt 
that  he  had  gone  too  far,  that  he  had  betrayed  too  much 
of  the  secret  thoughts  of  his  soul.  But  he  could  not  always 
control  his  violent  and  passionate  nature;  and  however 
much  a  man  of  the  world  and  diplomatist  he  might  be, 
still  there  were  moments  when  the  fanatical  priest  got 
the  better  of  the  man  of  the  world,  and  the  diplomat  was 
forced  to  give  way  to  the  minister  of  the  church. 

Cranmer  pitied  Gardiner's  confusion,  and,  following  the 
native  goodness  of  his  heart,  he  said  pleasantly:  "  Let  us 
not  strive  here  about  dogmas,  nor  attempt  to  determine 
whether  Luther  or  the  pope  is  most  in  the  wrong.  We 
stand  here  in  the  chamber  of  the  young  queen.  Let  us, 
therefore,  occupy  ourselves  a  little  with  the  destiny  of  this 
young  woman  whom  God  has  chosen  for  so  brilliant  a  lot." 

"Brilliant?"  said  Gardiner,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 
*  Let  us  first  wait  for  the  termination  of  her  career,  and 
then  decide  whether  it  has  been  brilliant.  Many  a  queen 
before  this  has  fancied  that  she  was  resting  on  a  couch  of 
myrtles  and  roses,  and  has  suddenly  become  conscious  that 
she  was  lying  on  a  red-hot  gridiron,  which  consumed  her." 

"  It  is  true,"  murmured  Cranmer,  with  a  slight  shud- 
der, "  it  is  a  dangerous  lot  to  be  the  king's  consort.  But 
just  on  that  account  let  us  not  make  the  perils  of  her  posi- 
tion still  greater,  by  adding  to  them  our  own  enmity  and 
hate.  Just  on  that  account  I  beg  you  (and  on  my  part  I 
pledge  you  my  word  for  it)  that,  let  the  choice  of  the  queen 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  7 

be  as  it  may,  there  may  be  no  feeling  of  anger,  and  no 
desire  for  revenge  in  consequence.  My  God,  the  poor 
women  are  such  odd  beings,  so  unaccountable  in  their 
wishes  and  in  their  inclinations!  " 

"  Ah !  it  seems  you  know  the  women  very  intimately," 
cried  Gardiner,  with  a  malicious  laugh.  "  Verily,  were  you 
not  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  had  not  the  king  pro- 
hibited the  marriage  of  ecclesiastics  as  a  very  grave  crime, 
one  might  suppose  that  you  had  a  wife  yourself,  and  had 
gained  from  her  a  thorough  knowledge  of  female  char- 
acter." 

Cranmer,  somewhat  embarrassed,  turned  away,  and 
seemed  to  evade  Gardiner's  piercing  look.  "  We  are  not 
speaking  of  myself,"  said  he  at  length,  "  but  of  the  young 
queen,  and  I  entreat  for  her  your  good  wishes.  I  have 
seen  her  to-day  almost  for  the  first  time,  and  have  never 
spoken  with  her,  but  her  countenance  has  touchingly 
impressed  me,  and  it  appeared  to  me,  her  looks  besought 
us  to  remain  at  her  side,  ready  to  help  her  on  this  diffi- 
cult pathway,  which  five  wives  have  already  trod  before 
her,  and  in  which  they  found  only  misery  and  tears,  dis- 
grace, and  blood." 

"  Let  Catharine  beware  then  that  she  does  not  forsake 
the  right  way,  as  her  five  predecessors  have  done! "  ex- 
claimed Gardiner.  "  May  she  be  prudent  and  cautious, 
and  may  she  be  enlightened  by  God,  that  she  may  hold  the 
true  faith,  and  have  true  wisdom,  and  not  allow  herself  to 
be  seduced  into  the  crooked  path  of  the  godless  and 
heretical,  but  remain  faithful  and  steadfast  with  those  of 
the  true  faith! " 

"  Who  can  say  who  are  of  the  true  faith?  "  murmured 
Cranmer,  sadly.  "  There  are  so  many  paths  leading  to 
heaven,  who  knows  which  is  the  right  one?  " 

"  That  which  we  tread! "  cried  Gardiner,  with  all  the 
overweening  pride  of  a  minister  of  the  church.  "  Woe  to 
the  queen  should  she  take  any  other  road!  Woe  to  her  if 
she  lends  her  ear  to  the  false  doctrines  which  come  ringing 


8  HENRY    VIU.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

over  here  from  Germany  and  Switzerland,  and  in  the 
worldly  prudence  of  her  heart  imagines  that  she  can  rest 
secure!  I  will  be  her  most  faithful  and  zealous  servant,  if 
she  is  with  me;  I  will  be  her  most  implacable  enemy  if  she 
is  against  me." 

"  And  will  you  call  it  being  against  you,  if  the  queen 
does  not  choose  you  for  her  confessor?  " 

"  Will  you  ask  me  to  call  it,  being  for  me?  " 

"  Now  God  grant  that  she  may  choose  you! "  exclaimed 
Cranmer,  fervently,  as  he  clasped  his  hands  and  raised  his 
eyes  to  heaven.  "Poor,  unfortunate  queen!  The  first 
proof  of  thy  husband's  love  may  be  thy  first  misfortune! 
Why  gave  he  thee  the  liberty  of  choosing  thine  own  spirit- 
ual director?  Why  did  he  not  choose  for  thee?  " 

And  Cranmer  dropped  his  head  upon  his  breast,  and 
sighed  deeply. 

At  this  instant  the  door  of  the  royal  chamber  opened, 
and  Lady  Jane,  daughter  of  Earl  Douglas,  and  first  maid  of 
honor  to  the  queen,  made  her  appearance  on  the  threshold. 

Both  bishops  regarded  her  in  breathless  silence.  It  was 
a  serious,  a  solemn  moment,  the  deep  importance  of  which 
was  very  well  comprehended  by  all  three. 

"  Her  majesty  the  queen,"  said  Lady  Jane,  in  an  agi- 
tated voice,  "her  majesty  requests  the  presence  of  Lord 
Cranmer,  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  in  her  cabinet,  in 
order  that  she  may  perform  her  devotions  with  him." 

"  Poor  queen! "  murmured  Cranmer,  as  he  crossed  the 
room  to  go  to  Catharine — "  poor  queen!  she  has  just  made 
an  implacable  enemy." 

Lady  Jane  waited  till  Cranmer  had  disappeared  through 
the  door,  then  hastened  with  eager  steps  to  the  bishop  of 
Winchester,  and  dropping  on  her  knee,  humbly  said, 
"  Grace,  your  highness,  grace!  My  words  were  in  vain,  and 
were  not  able  to  shake  her  resolution." 

Gardiner  raised  up  the  kneeling  maiden,  and  forced  a 
smile.  "  It  is  well,"  said  he,  "  I  doubt  not  of  your  zeal. 
You  are  a  true  handmaid  of  the  church,  and  she  will  love 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  y 

and  reward  you  for  it  as  a  mother!    It  is  then  decided. 
The  queen  is " 

"  Is  a  heretic,"  whispered  Lady  Jane.    "  Woe  to  her!  " 

"  And  will  you  be  true,  and  will  you  faithfully  adhere 
to  us?  " 

"  True,  in  every  thought  of  my  being,  and  every  drop 
of  my  heart's  blood." 

"  So  shall  we  overcome  Catharine  Parr,  as  we  overcame 
Catharine  Howard.  To  the  block  with  the  heretic!  We 
found  means  of  bringing  Catharine  Howard  to  the  scaffold; 
you,  Lady  Jane,  must  find  the  means  of  leading  Catharine 
Parr  the  same  way." 

"  I  will  find  them,"  said  Lady  Jane,  quietly.  "  She 
loves  and  trusts  me.  I  will  betray  her  friendship  in  order 
to  remain  true  to  my  religion." 

"  Catharine  Parr  then  is  lost,"  said  Gardiner,  aloud. 

"Yes,  she  is  lost,"  responded  Earl  Douglas,  who  had 
just  entered,  and  caught  the  last  words  of  the  bishop. 
"Yes,  she  is  lost,  for  we  are  her  inexorable  and  ever- 
vigilant  enemies.  But  I  deem  it  not  altogether  prudent  to 
utter  words  like  these  in  the  queen's  drawing-room.  Let 
us  therefore  choose  a  more  favorable  hour.  Besides,  your 
highness,  you  must  betake  yourself  to  the  grand  reception- 
hall,  where  the  whole  court  is  already  assembled,  and  now 
only  awaits  the  king  to  go  in  formal  procession  for  the 
young  queen,  and  conduct  her  to  the  balcony.  Let  us  go, 
then." 

Gardiner  nodded  in  silence,  and  betook  himself  to  the 
reception-hall. 

Earl  Douglas  with  his  daughter  followed  him.  "  Catha- 
rine Parr  is  lost,"  whispered  he  in  Lady  Jane's  ear.  "Cath- 
arine Parr  is  lost,  and  you  shall  be  the  king's  seventh  wife." 

Whilst  this  was  passing  in  the  drawing-room,  the  young 
queen  was  on  her  knees  before  Cranmer,  and  with  him 
sending  up  to  God  fervent  prayers  for  prosperity  and  peace. 
Tears  filled  her  eyes,  and  her  heart  trembled  as  if  before 
some  approaching  calamity. 
2 


10  HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

CIIAPTEK  II. 

THE  QUEEN  AND  HER  FRIEND. 

AT  last  this  long  day  of  ceremonies  and  festivities  drew 
near  its  close,  and  Catharine  might  soon  hope  to  be,  for 
the  time,  relieved  from  this  endless  presenting  and  smiling, 
from  this  ever-renewed  homage. 

At  her  husband's  side  she  had  shown  herself  on  the 
balcony  to  receive  the  greetings  of  the  people,  and  to  bow 
her  thanks.  Then  in  the  spacious  audience-chamber  her 
newly  appointed  court  had  passed  before  her  in  formal  pro- 
cession, and  she  had  exchanged  a  few  meaningless,  friendly 
words  with  each  of  these  lords  and  ladies.  Afterward  she 
had,  at  her  husband's  side,  given  audience  to  the  deputa- 
tions from  the  city  and  from  Parliament.  But  it  was  only 
with  a  secret  shudder  that  she  had  received  from  their 
lips  the  same  congratulations  and  praises  with  which  the 
authorities  had  already  greeted  five  other  wives  of  the  king. 

Still  she  had  been  able  to  smile  and  seem  happy,  for 
she  well  knew  that  the  king's  eye  was  never  oft*  of  her,  and 
that  all  these  lords  and  ladies  who  now  met  her  with  such 
deference,  and  with  homage  apparently  so  sincere,  were  yet, 
in  truth,  all  her  bitter  enemies.  For  by  her  marriage  she 
had  destroyed  so  many  hopes,  she  had  pushed  aside  so  many 
who  believed  themselves  better  fitted  to  assume  the  lofty 
position  of  queen!  She  knew  that  these  victims  of  disap- 
pointment would  never  forgive  her  this;  that  she,  who  was 
but  yesterday  their  equal,  had  to-day  soared  above  them 
as  queen  and  mistress;  she  knew  that  all  these  were  watch- 
ing with  spying  eyes  her  every  word  and  action,  in  order, 
it  might  be,  to  forge  therefrom  an  accusation  or  a  death- 
warrant. 

But  nevertheless  she  smiled!  She  smiled,  though  she 
felt  that  the  choler  of  the  king,  so  easily  kindled  and  so 
cruelly  vindictive,  ever  swung  over  her  head  like  tli<i  sword 
nf  Damocles. 


HENKY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  H 

She  smiled,  so  that  this  sword  might  not  fall  upon  her. 

At  length  all  these  presentations,  this  homage  and  re- 
joicing were  well  over,  and  they  came  to  the  more  agree- 
able and  satisfactory  part  of  the  feast. 

They  went  to  dinner.  That  was  Catharine's  first  mo- 
ment of  respite,  of  rest.  For  when  Henry  the  Eighth 
seated  himself  at  table,  he  was  no  longer  the  haughty 
monarch  and  the  jealous  husband,  but  merely  the  proficient 
artiste  and  the  impassioned  gourmand;  and  whether  the 
pastry  was  well  seasoned,  and  the  pheasant  of  good  flavor, 
was  for  him  then  a  far  more  important  question  than  any 
concerning  the  weal  of  his  people,  and  the  prosperity  of  his 
kingdom. 

But  after  dinner  came  another  respite,  a  new  enjoy- 
ment, and  this  time  a  more  real  one,  which  indeed  for  a 
while  banished  all  gloomy  forebodings  and  melancholy 
fears  from  Catharine's  heart,  and  suffused  her  countenance 
with  the  rosy  radiance  of  cheerfulness  and  happy  smiles. 
For  King  Henry  had  prepared  for  his  young  wife  a  peculiar 
and  altogether  novel  surprise.  He  had  caused  to  be  erected 
in  the  palace  of  Whitehall  a  stage,  whereon  was  repre- 
sented, by  the  nobles  of  the  court,  a  comedy  from  Plautus. 
Heretofore  there  had  been  no  other  theatrical  exhibitions 
than  those  which  the  people  performed  on  the  high  fes- 
tivals of  the  church,  the  morality  and  the  mystery  plays. 
King  Henry  the  Eighth  was  the  first  who  had  a  stage 
erected  for  worldly  amusement  likewise,  and  caused  to  be 
represented  on  it  subjects  other  than  mere  dramatized 
church  history.  As  he  freed  the  church  from  its  spiritual 
head,  the  pope,  so  he  wished  to  free  the  stage  from  the 
church,  and  to  behold  upon  it  other  more  lively  spectacles 
than  the  roasting  of  saints  and  the  massacre  of  inspired 
nuns. 

And  why,  too,  represent  such  mock  tragedies  on  the 
stage,  when  the  king  was  daily  performing  them  in  reality? 
The  burning  of  Christian  martyrs  and  inspired  virgins  was, 
nnder  the  reign  of  the  Christian  king  Henry,  such  a  usual 


12  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

and  every-day  occurrence,  that  it  could  afford  a  piquant  en- 
tertainment neither  to  the  court  nor  to  himself. 

But  the  representation  of  a  Roman  comedy,  that,  how- 
ever, was  a  new  and  piquant  pleasure,  a  surprise  for  the 
young  queen.  He  had  the  "  Curculio  "  played  before  his 
wife,  and  if  Catharine  indeed  could  listen  to  the  licentious 
and  shameless  jests  of  the  popular  Roman  poet  only  with 
bashful  blushes,  Henry  was  so  much  the  more  delighted  by 
it,  and  accompanied  the  obscenest  allusions  and  the  most 
indecent  jests  with  his  uproarious  laughter  and  loud  shouts 
of  applause. 

At  length  this  festivity  was  also  over  with,  and  Catha- 
rine was  now  permitted  to  retire  with  her  attendants  to  her 
private  apartments. 

With  a  pleasant  smile,  she  dismissed  her  cavaliers,  and 
bade  her  women  and  her  second  maid  of  honor,  Anna 
Askew,  go  into  her  boudoir  and  await  her  call.  Then  she 
gave  her  arm  to  her  friend  Lady  Jane  Douglas,  and  with 
her  entered  her  cabinet. 

At  last  she  was  alone,  at  last  unwatched.  The  smile 
disappeared  from  her  face,  and  an  expression  of  deep  sad- 
ness was  stamped  upon  her  features. 

"  Jane,"  said  she,  "  pray  thee  shut  the  doors  and  draw 
the  window  curtains,  so  that  nobody  can  see  me,  nobody 
hear  me,  no  one  except  yourself,  my  friend,  the  companion 
of  my  happy  childhood.  Oh,  my  God,  my  God,  why  was  I 
so  foolish  as  to  leave  my  father's  quiet,  lonely  castle  and 
go  out  into  the  world,  which  is  so  full  of  terror  and  hor- 
ror? " 

She  sighed  and  groaned  deeply;  and  burying  her  face 
in  her  hands,  she  sank  upon  the  ottoman,  weeping  and 
trembling. 

Lady  Jane  observed  her  with  a  peculiar  smile  of  ma- 
licious satisfaction. 

"  She  is  queen  and  she  weeps,"  said  she  to  herself. 
"  My  God,  how  can  a  woman  possibly  feel  unhappy,  and  she 
a  queen?  " 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  13 

She  approached  Catharine,  and,  seating  herself  on  the 
tabouret  at  her  feet,  she  impressed  a  fervent  kiss  on  the 
queen's  drooping  hand. 

"  Your  majesty  weeping! "  said  she,  in  her  most  insinu- 
ating tone.  "  My  God,  you  are  then  unhappy;  and  I  re- 
ceived with  a  loud  cry  of  joy  the  news  of  my  friend's  un- 
expected good  fortune.  I  thought  to  meet  a  queen,  proud, 
happy,  and  radiant  with  joy;  and  I  was  anxious  and  fearful 
lest  the  queen  might  have  ceased  to  be  my  friend.  Where- 
fore I  urged  my  father,  as  soon  as  your  command  reached 
us,  to  leave  Dublin  and  hasten  with  me  hither.  Oh,  my 
God!  I  wished  to  see  you  in  your  happiness  and  in  your 
greatness." 

Catharine  removed  her  hands  from  her  face,  and  looked 
down  at  her  friend  with  a  sorrowful  smile.  "  Well,"  said 
she,  "  are  you  not  satisfied  with  what  you  have  seen?  Have 
I  not  the  whole  day  displayed  to  you  the  smiling  queen, 
worn  a  dress  embroidered  with  gold?  did  not  my  neck 
glitter  with  diamonds?  did  not  the  royal  diadem  shine 
in  my  hair?  and  sat  not  the  king  by  my  side?  Let  that, 
then,  be  sufficient  for  the  present.  You  have  seen  the 
queen  all  day  long.  Allow  me  now  for  one  brief,  happy 
moment  to  be  again  the  feeling,  sensitive  woman,  who  can 
pour  into  the  bosom  of  her  friend  all  her  complaint  and 
her  wretchedness.  Ah,  Jane,  if  you  knew  how  I  have 
longed  for  this  hour,  how  I  have  sighed  after  you  as  the 
only  balm  for  my  poor  smitten  heart,  smitten  even  to 
death,  how  I  have  implored  Heaven  for  this  day,  for  this 
one  thing — '  Give  me  back  my  Jane,  so  that  she  can  weep 
with  me,  so  that  I  may  have  one  being  at  my  side  who 
understands  me,  and  does  not  allow  herself  to  be  imposed 
upon  by  the  wretched  splendor  of  this  outward  display! ' } 

"Poor  Catharine!"  whispered  Lady  Jane,  "poor 
queen! " 

Catharine  started  and  laid  her  hand,  sparkling  with 
brilliants,  on  Jane's  lips.  "  Call  me  not  thus! "  said  she. 
"  Queen!  My  God,  is  not  all  the  fearful  past  heard  again 


14  HENRY    VTII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

in  that  word?  Queen!  Is  it  not  as  much  as  to  say,  con- 
demned to  the  scaffold  and  a  public  criminal  trial?  Ah, 
Jane!  a  deadly  tremor  runs  through  my  members.  I  am 
Henry  the  Eighth's  sixth  queen;  I  shall  also  be  executed, 
or,  loaded  with  disgrace,  be  repudiated." 

Again  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  her  whole 
frame  shook;  so  she  saw  not  the  smile  of  malicious  satisfac- 
tion with  which  Lady  Jane  again  observed  her.  She  sus- 
pected not  with  what  secret  delight  her  friend  heard  her 
lamentations  and  sighs. 

"Oh!  I  am  at  least  revenged!"  thought  Jane,  while 
she  lovingly  stroked  the  queen's  hair.  "  Yes,  I  am  re- 
venged! She  has  robbed  me  of  a  crown,  but  she  is 
wretched;  and  in  the  golden  goblet  which  she  presses  to  her 
lips  she  will  find  nothing  but  wormwood!  Now,  if  this  sixth 
queen  dies  not  on  the  scaffold,  still  we  may  perhaps  so 
work  it  that  she  dies  of  anxiety,  or  deems  it  a  pleasure 
to  be  able  to  lay  down  again  her  royal  crown  at  Henry's 
feet." 

Then  said  she  aloud:  "But  why  these  fears,  Catha- 
rine? The  king  loves  you;  the  whole  court  has  seen  with 
what  tender  and  ardent  looks  he  has  regarded  you  to-day, 
and  with  what  delight  he  has  listened  to  your  every  word. 
Certainly  the  king  loves  you." 

Catharine  seized  her  hand  impulsi  rely.  "  The  king 
loves  me,"  whispered  she,  "  and  I,  I  tr  >mble  before  him. 
Yes,  more  than  that,  his  love  fills  me  \T'iih  horror!  His 
hands  are  dipped  in  blood;  and  as  I  saw  him  to-day  in  his 
crimson  robes  I  shuddered,  and  I  thought,  How  soon,  and 
my  blood,  too,  will  dye  this  crimson!  " 

Jane  smiled.  "  You  are  sick,  Catharine,"  said  she. 
"  This  good  fortune  has  taken  you  by  surprise,  and  your 
overstrained  nerves  now  depict  before  you  all  sorts  of 
frightful  forms.  That  is  all." 

"  No,  no,  Jane;  these  thoughts  have  ever  beon  with  me. 
They  have  attended  me  ever  since  the  king  selected  mr  fur 
his  wife." 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS   COURT.  15 

"And  why,  then,  did  you  not  refuse  him?"  asked 
Lady  Jane.  "  Why  did  you  not  say  *  no '  to  the  king's 
suit?" 

"  Why  did  I  not  do  it,  ask  you?  Ah,  Jane,  are  you  such 
a  stranger  at  this  court  as  not  to  know,  then,  that  one 
must  either  fulfil  the  king's  behests  or  die?  My  God,  they 
envy  me!  They  call  me  the  greatest  and  most  potent 
woman  of  England.  They  know  not  that  I  am  poorer 
and  more  powerless  than  the  beggar  of  the  street,  who  at 
least  has  the  power  to  refuse  whom  she  will.  I  could  not 
refuse.  I  must  either  die  or  accept  the  royal  hand  which 
was  extended  to  me;  and  I  would  not  die  yet,  I  have  still 
so  many  claims  on  life,  and  it  has  hitherto  made  good  so 
few  of  them!  Ah,  my  poor,  hapless  existence!  what  has  it 
been,  but  an  endless  chain  of  renunciations  and  depriva- 
tions, of  leafless  flowers  and  dissolving  views?  It  is  true, 
I  have  never  learned  to  know  what  is  usually  called  misfor- 
tune. But  is  there  a  greater  misfortune  than  not  to  be 
happy;  than  to  sigh  through  a  life  without  wish  or  hope; 
to  wear  away  the  endless,  weary  days  of  an  existence  with- 
out delight,  yet  surrounded  with  luxury  and  splendor?  " 

"  You  were  not  unfortunate,  and  yet  you  are  an  orphan, 
fatherless  and  motherless?" 

"  I  lost  my  mother  so  early  that  I  scarcely  knew  her. 
And  when  my  father  died  I  could  hardly  consider  it  other 
than  a  blessing,  for  he  had  never  shown  himself  a  father, 
but  always  only  as  a  harsh,  tyrannical  master  to  me." 

"  But  you  were  married?  " 

"Married!"  said  Catharine,  with  a  melancholy  smile. 
"  That  is  to  say,  my  father  sold  me  to  a  gouty  old  man, 
on  whose  couch  I  spent  a  few  comfortless,  awfully  weari- 
some years,  till  Lord  Neville  made  me  a  rich  widow.  But 
what  did  my  independence  avail  me,  when  I  had  bound 
myself  in  new  fetters?  Hitherto  I  had  been  the  slave  of 
my  father,  of  my  husband;  now  I  was  the  slave  of  my 
wealth.  I  ceased  to  be  a  sick-nurse  to  become  steward  of 
my  estate.  Ah!  this  was  the  most  tedious  period  of  my 


Itf  UEM;Y    VIII.    AND   HIS   COUKT. 

life.  And  yet  I  owe  to  it  my  only  real  happiness,  for  at 
that  period  I  became  acquainted  with  you,  my  Jane,  and 
my  heart,  which  had  never  yet  learned  to  know  a  tenderer 
feeling,  flew  to  you  with  all  the  impetuosity  of  a  first  pas~ 
sion.  Believe  me,  my  Jane,  when  this  long-missing  nephew 
of  my  husband  came  and  snatched  away  from  me  his  heredi- 
tary estate,  and,  as  the  lord,  took  possession  of  it,  then  the 
thought  that  I  must  leave  you  and  your  father,  the  neigh- 
boring proprietor,  was  my  only  grief.  Men  commiserated 
me  on  account  of  my  lost  property.  I  thanked  God  that 
He  had  relieved  me  of  this  load,  and  I  started  for  Lon- 
don, that  I  might  at  last  live  and  feel,  that  I  might  learn 
to  know  real  happiness  or  real  misery." 

"  And  what  did  you  find?  " 

"  Miser}',  Jane,  for  I  am  queen." 

"  Is  that  your  sole  unhappiness?  " 

"  My  only  one,  but  it  is  great  enough,  for  it  condemns 
me  to  eternal  anxiety,  to  eternal  dissimulation.  It  con- 
demns me  to  feign  a  love  which  I  do  not  feel,  to  en- 
Jdure  caresses  which  make  me  shudder,  because  they  are 
an  inheritance  from  five  unfortunate  women.  Jane,  Jane, 
do  you  comprehend  what  it  is  to  be  obliged  to  embrace 
a  man  who  has  murdered  three  wives  and  put  away 
two?  to  be  obliged  to  kiss  this  king  whose  lips  open  just 
as  readily  to  utter  vows  of  love  as  sentences  of  death? 
Ah,  Jane,  I  speak,  I  live,  and  still  I  suffer  all  the  agonies 
of  death!  They  call  me  a  queen,  and  yet  I  tremble  for  my 
life  every  hour,  and  conceal  my  anxiety  and  fear  bene;itl! 
the  appearance  of  happiness!  My  God,  I  am  five-aud- 
twenty,  and  my  heart  is  still  the  heart  of  a  child;  it  does 
not  yet  know  itself,  and  now  it  is  doomed  never  to  learn 
to  know  itself;  for  I  am  Henry's  wife,  and  to  love  another 
is,  in  other  words,  to  wish  to  mount  the  scaffold.  The 
scaffold!  Look,  Jane.  When  the  king  approached  me  and 
confessed  his  love  and  offered  me  his  hand,  suddenly  there 
rose  before  me  a  fearful  picture.  It  was  no  more  the  king 
whom  I  saw  before  me,  but  the  hangman;  and  it  seemed 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  17 

to  me  that  I  saw  three  corpses  lying  at  his  feet,  and  with 
a  loud  scream  I  sank  senseless  before  him.  When  I  re- 
vived, the  king  was  holding  me  in  his  arms.  The  shock 
of  this  unexpected  good  fortune,  he  thought,  had  made  me 
faint.  He  kissed  me  and  called  me  his  bride;  he  thought 
not  for  a  moment  that  I  could  refuse  him.  And  I — despise 
me,  Jane — I  was  such  a  dastard,  that  I  could  not  summon 
up  courage  for  a  downright  refusal.  Yes,  I  was  so  craven 
also,  as  to  be  unwilling  to  die.  Ah,  my  God,  it  appeared  to 
me  that  life  at  that  moment  beckoned  to  me  with  thou- 
sands of  joys,  thousands  of  charms,  which  I  had  never 
known,  and  for  which  my  soul  thirsted  as  for  the  manna 
in  the  wilderness.  I  would  live,  live  at  any  cost.  I  would 
gain  myself  a  respite,  so  that  I  might  once  more  share  hap- 
piness, love,  and  enjoyment.  Look,  Jane,  men  call  me  am- 
bitious. They  say  I  have  given  my  hand  to  Henry  be- 
cause he  is  king.  Ah,  they  know  not  how  I  shuddered  at 
this  royal  crown.  They  know  not  that  in  anguish  of  heart 
I  besought  the  king  not  to  bestow  his  hand  upon  me,  and 
thereby  rouse  all  the  ladies  of  his  kingdom  as  foes  against 
me.  They  know  not  that  I  confessed  that  I  loved  him, 
merely  that  I  might  be  able  to  add  that  I  was  ready,  out  of 
love  to  him,  to  sacrifice  my  own  happiness  to  his,  and  so 
conjured  him  to  choose  a  consort  worthy  of  himself,  from 
the  hereditary  princesses  of  Europe.*  But  Henry  rejected 
my  sacrifice.  He  wished  to  make  a  queen,  in  order  to  pos- 
sess a  wife,  who  may  be  his  own  property — whose  blood,  as 
her  lord  and  master,  he  can  shed.  So  I  am  queen.  I  have 
accepted  my  lot,  and  henceforth  my  existence  will  be  a 
ceaseless  struggle  and  wrestling  with  death.  I  will  at  least 
sell  my  life  as  dearly  as  possible;  and  the  maxim  which 
Cranmer  has  given  me  shall  hereafter  be  my  guide  on 
the  thorny  path  of  life." 

"  And  how  runs  this  maxim?  "  asked  Jane. 

"Be  wise  as  serpents  and  harmless  as  doves,"  replied 

*  "  La  vie  d'filizabeth,  Reine  d'Angleterre,  traduite  de  1'Italien  de 
Monsieur  Gregoire  Leti,"  vol.  ii.     Amsterdam,  1694. 


18  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

Catharine,  with  a  languid  smile,  as  she  dropped  her  head 
upon  her  breast  and  surrendered  herself  to  her  painful  and 
foreboding  reflections. 

Lady  Jane  stood  opposite  to  her,  and  gazed  with  cruel 
composure  upon  the  painfully  convulsed  countenance  and 
at  times  violently  trembling  form  of  the  young  queen  for 
whom  all  England  that  day  kept  festival,  and  who  yet  was 
sitting  before  her  so  wretched  and  full  of  sorrow. 

Suddenly  Catharine  raised  her  head.  Her  countenance 
had  now  assumed  an  entirely  different  expression.  It  was 
now  firm,  resolute,  and  dauntless.  With  a  slight  inclination 
of  the  head  she  extended  her  hand  to  Lady  Jane,  and  drew 
her  friend  more  closely  to  her. 

"  I  thank  you,  Jane,"  said  she,  as  she  imprinted  a  kiss 
upon  her  forehead — "I  thank  you!  You  have  done  my 
heart  good  and  relieved  it  of  its  oppressive  load  of  secret 
anguish.  He  who  can  give  his  grief  utterance,  is  already 
half  cured  of  it.  I  thank  you,  then,  Jane!  Henceforth, 
you  will  find  me  calm  and  cheerful.  The  woman  has  wept 
before  you,  but  the  queen  is  aware  that  she  has  a  task  to 
accomplish  as  difficult  as  it  is  noble,  and  I  give  you  my  word 
for  it,  she  will  accomplish  it.  The  new  light  which  has 
risen  on  the  world  shall  no  more  be  dimmed  by  blood  and 
tears,  and  no  more  in  this  unhappy  land  shall  men  of  sense 
and  piety  be  condemned  as  insurgents  and  traitors!  This 
is  the  task  which  God  has  set  me,  and  I  swear  that  I  will 
accomplish  it!  Will  you  help  me  in  this,  too,  Jane?  " 

Lady  Jane  responded  faintly  in  a  few  words,  which 
Catharine  did  not  understand,  and  as  she  looked  up  to  her, 
she  noticed,  with  astonishment,  the  corpse-like  pallor  which 
had  suddenly  overspread  the  countenance  of  her  maid  of 
honor. 

Catharine  gave  a  start,  and  fixed  on  her  face  a  surprised 
and  searching  look. 

Lady  Jane  cast  down  her  eyes  before  that  searching 
and  flashing  glance.  Her  fanaticism  had  for  the  moment 
got  the  better  of  her,  and  much  as  she  was  wont  at  other 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  19 

times  to  hide  her  thoughts  and  feelings,  it  had,  at  that  mo- 
ment, carried  her  away  and  betrayed  her  to  the  keen  eye 
of  her  friend. 

"  It  is  now  a  long  while  since  we  saw  each  other,"  said 
Catharine,  sadly.  "  Three  years!  It  is  a  long  time  for  a 
young  girl's  heart!  And  you  were  those  three  years  with 
your  father  in  Dublin,  at  that  rigidly  popish  couit.  I  did 
not  consider  that!  But  however  much  your  opinions  may 
have  changed,  your  heart,  I  know,  still  remains  the  same, 
and  you  will  ever  be  the  proud,  high-minded  Jane  of  former 
days,  who  could  never  stoop  to  tell  a  lie — no,  not  even  if 
this  lie  would  procure  her  profit  and  glory.  I  ask  you  then, 
Jane,  what  is  your  religion?  Do  you  believe  in  the  Pope 
of  Rome,  and  the  Church  of  Rome  as  the  only  channel  of 
salvation?  or  do  you  follow  the  new  teaching  which  Luther 
and  Calvin  have  promulgated  ?  " 

Lady  Jane  smiled.  "  Would  I  have  risked  appearing 
before  you,  if  I  still  reckoned  myself  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church?  Catharine  Parr  is  hailed  by  the  Protestants  of 
England  as  the  new  patroness  of  the  persecuted  doctrine, 
and  already  the  Romish  priests  hurl  their  anathemas 
against  you,  and  execrate  you  and  your  dangerous  presence 
here.  And  you  ask  me,  whether  I  am  an  adherent  of  that 
church  which  maligns  and  damns  you?  You  ask  me 
whether  I  believe  in  the  pope,  who  has  laid  the  king  under 
an  interdict — the  king,  who  is  not  only  my  lord  and  master, 
but  also  the  husband  of  my  precious  and  noble  Catharine? 
Oh,  queen,  you  love  me  not  when  you  can  address  such  a 
question  to  me." 

And  as  if  overcome  by  painful  emotion,  Lady  Jane  sank 
down  at  Catharine's  feet,  and  hid  her  head  in  the  folds  of 
the  queen's  robe. 

Catharine  bent  down  to  raise  her  and  take  her  to  her 
heart.  Suddenly  she  started,  and  a  deathly  paleness  over- 
spread her  face.  "  The  king,"  whispered  she,  "  the  king  is 
coming! " 


20  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

CHAPTER  III. 

KINO  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH. 

CATHARINE  was  not  deceived.  The  doors  were  opened, 
and  on  the  threshold  appeared  the  lord  marshal,  with  his 
golden  mace. 

"  His  majesty  the  king! "  whispered  he,  in  his  grave, 
solemn  manner,  which  filled  Catharine  with  secret  dread, 
as  though  he  were  pronouncing  the  sentence  of  death 
over  her. 

But  she  forced  a  smile  and  advanced  to  the  door  to 
receive  the  king.  Xow  was  heard  a  thunder-like  rumble, 
and  over  the  smoothly  carpeted  floor  of  the  anteroom  came 
rolling  on  the  king's  house  equipage.  This  house  equipage 
consisted  of  a  large  chair,  resting  on  castors,  which  was 
moved  by  men  in  the  place  of  horses,  and  to  which  they 
had,  with  artful  flattery,  given  the  form  of  a  triumphal 
car  of  the  old  victorious  Roman  Capsars,  in  order  to  afford 
the  king,  as  he  rolled  through  the  halls,  the  pleasant  illu- 
sion that  he  was  holding  a  triumphal  procession,  and  that 
it  was  not  the  burden  of  his  heavy  limbs  which  fastened 
him  to  his  imperial  car.  King  Henry  gave  ready  credence 
to  the  flattery  of  his  truckle-chair  and  his  courtiers,  and  as 
he  rolled  along  in  it  through  the  saloons  glittering  with 
gold,  and  through  halls  adorned  with  Venetian  mirrors, 
which  reflected  his  form  a  thousandfold,  he  liked  to  lull 
himself  into  the  dream  of  being  a  triumphing  hero,  and 
wholly  forgot  that  it  was  not  his  deeds,  but  his  fat,  that 
had  helped  him  to  his  triumphal  car. 

For  that  monstrous  mass  which  filled  up  the  colossal 
chair,  that  mountain  of  purple-clad  flesh,  that  clumsy, 
almost  shapeless  mass,  that  was  Henry  the  Eighth,  kin^ 
of  merry  England.  But  that  mass  had  a  head — a  head  full 
of  dark  and  wrathful  thoughts,  a  heart  full  of  bloodthirsty 
and  cruel  lusts.  The  colossal  body  was  indeed,  by  its  pli\ ri- 
cal  weight,  fastened  to  the  chair.  Yet  his  mind  never 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  21 

rested,  but  he  hovered,  with  the  talons  and  flashing  eye  of 
the  bird  of  prey,  over  his  people,  ever  ready  to  pounce 
upon  some  innocent  dove,  to  drink  her  blood,  and  tear 
out  her  heart,  that  he  might  lay  it,  all  palpitating,  as  an 
offering  on  the  altar  of  his  sanguinary  god. 

The  king's  sedan  now  stopped,  and  Catharine  hastened 
forward  with  smiling  face,  to  assist  her  royal  husband  in 
alighting. 

Henry  greeted  her  with  a  gracious  nod,  and  rejected 
the  proffered  aid  of  the  attendant  pages. 

"Away,"  said  he,  "away!  My  Catharine  alone  shall 
extend  me  her  hand,  and  give  me  a  welcome  to  the  bridal 
chamber.  Go,  we  feel  to-day  as  young  and  strong  as  in 
our  best  and  happiest  days,  and  the  young  queen  shall  see 
that  it  is  no  decrepit  graybeard,  tottering  with  age,  who 
woos  her,  but  a  strong  man  rejuvenated  by  love.  Think 
not,  Kate,  that  I  use  my  car  because  of  weakness.  No,  it 
was  only  my  longing  for  you  which  made  me  wish  to  be 
with  you  the  sooner." 

He  kissed  her  with  a  smile,  and,  lightly  leaning  on  her 
arm,  alighted  from  his  car. 

"  Away  with  the  equipage,  and  with  all  of  you! "  said 
he.  "  We  wish  to  be  alone  with  this  beautiful  young  wife, 
whom  the  lord  bishops  have  to-day  made  our  own." 

At  a  signal  from  his  hand,  the  brilliant  cortege  with- 
drew, and  Catharine  was  alone  with  the  king. 

Her  heart  beat  so  wildly  that  it  made  her  lips  tremble, 
and  her  bosom  swell  high. 

Henry  saw  it,  and  smiled;  but  it  was  a  cold,  cruel  smile, 
and  Catharine  grew  pale  before  it. 

"  He  has  only  the  smile  of  a  tyrant,"  said  she  to  her- 
self. "  With  this  same  smile,  by  which  he  would  now  give 
expression  to  his  love,  he  yesterday,  perhaps,  signed  a 
death-warrant,  or  will,  to-morrow,  witness  an  execution." 

"  Do  you  love  me,  Kate?  "  suddenly  said  the  king,  who 
had  till  now  observed  her  in  silence  and  thoughtfulness. 
*'  Say,  Kate,  do  you  love  me?  " 


22  HEXKY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COUKT. 

He  looked  steadily  into  her  eyes,  as  though  he  would 
read  her  soul  to  the  very  bottom. 

Catharine  sustained  his  look,  and  did  not  drop  her  eyes. 
She  felt  that  this  was  the  decisive  moment  which  deter- 
mined her  whole  future;  and  this  conviction  restored  to  her 
all  her  self-possession  and  energy. 

She  was  now  no  longer  the  shy,  timid  girl,  but  the  reso- 
lute, proud  woman,  who  was  ready  to  wrestle  with  fate  for 
greatness  and  glory. 

"Do  you  love  me,  Kate?"  repeated  the  king;  and  his 
brow  already  began  to  darken. 

"  I  know  not,"  said  Catharine,  with  a  smile,  which  en- 
chanted the  king,  for  there  was  quite  as  much  graceful 
coquetry  as  bashfulness  on  her  charming  face. 

"  You  know  not?  "  replied  Henry,  astonished.  "  Now, 
by  the  Mother  of  God,  it  is  the  first  time  in  my  life  that 
a  woman  has  ever  been  bold  enough  to  return  me  such  an 
answer!  You  are  a  bold  woman,  Kate,  to  hazard  it,  and  I 
praise  you  for  it.  I  love  bravery,  because  it  is  something 
I  so  rarely  see.  They  all  tremble  before  me,  Kate — all! 
They  know  that  I  am  not  intimidated  by  blood,  and  in  the 
might  of  my  royalty  I  subscribe  a  death-warrant  with  the 
same  calmness  of  soul  as  a  love-letter." 

"  Oh,  you  are  a  great  king,"  murmured  Catharine. 

Henry  did  not  notice  her.  He  was  wholly  buried  in 
one  of  those  self-contemplations  to  which  he  so  willingly 
surrendered  himself,  and  which  generally  h#d  for  their 
subject  his  own  greatness  and  sovereignty. 

"  Yes,"  continued  he,  and  his  eyes,  which,  in  spite  of 
his  corpulency  and  his  extremely  fleshy  face,  were  yet  large 
and  wide  open,  shone  more  brightly.  "  Yes,  they  all  trem- 
ble before  me,  for  they  know  that  I  am  a  righteous  am? 
powerful  king,  who  spares  not  his  oVn  blood,  if  it  is  neces- 
sary to  punish  and  expiate  crime,  and  with  inexorable  hand 
punishes  the  sinner,  though  he  were  the  nearest  to  th« 
throne.  Take  heed  to  yourself,  therefore,  Kate,  take  heed 
to  yourself.  You  behold  in  me  the  avenger  of  God,  and 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  23 

the  judge  of  men.  The  king  wears  the  crimson,  not  be- 
cause it  is  beautiful  and  glossy,  but  because  it  is  red  like 
blood,  and  because  it  is  the  king's  highest  prerogative  to 
shed  the  blood  of  his  delinquent  subjects,  and  thereby  ex- 
piate human  crime.  Thus  only  do  I  conceive  of  royalty, 
and  thus  only  will  I  carry  it  out  till  the  end  of  my  days. 
Not  the  right  to  pardon,  but  the  right  to  punish,  is  that 
whereby  the  ruler  manifests  himself  before  the  lower 
classes  of  mankind.  God's  thunder  should  be  on  his  lips, 
and  the  king's  wrath  should  descend  like  lightning  on  the 
head  of  the  guilty." 

"  But  God  is  not  only  wrathful,  but  also  merciful  and 
forgiving,"  said  Catharine,  as  she  lightly  and  shyly  leaned 
her  head  on  the  king's  shoulder. 

"  Just  that  is  the  prerogative  of  God  above  kings;  that 
He  can,  as  it  pleases  Him,  show  mercy  and  grace,  where  we 
can  only  condemn  and  punish.  There  must  be  something 
in  which  God  is  superior  to  kings,  and  greater  than  they. 
But  how,  Kate,  you  tremble,  and  the  lovely  smile  has  van- 
ished from  your  countenance!  Be  not  afraid  of  me,  Kate! 
Be  always  frank  with  me,  and  without  deceit;  then  I  shall 
always  love  you,  and  iniquity  will  then  have  no  power  over 
you.  And  now,  Kate,  tell  me,  and  explain  to  me.  You 
do  not  know  that  you  love  me?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not  know,  your  majesty.  And  how  should  I 
be  able  to  recognize,  and  know,  and  designate  by  name 
what  is  strange  to  me,  and  what  I  have  never  before  felt  ?  " 

"How,  you  have  never  loved,  Kate?"  asked  the  king, 
with  a  joyful  expression. 

"  Never.  My  father  maltreated  me,  so  that  I  could  feel 
for  him  nothing  but  dread  and  terror." 

"And  your  husband,  child?  That  man  who  was  my 
predecessor  in  the  possession  of  you.  Did  you  not  love 
your  husband  either?  " 

"  My  husband?  "  asked  she,  abstractedly.  "  It  is  true, 
my  father  sold  me  to  Lord  Neville,  and  as  the  priest  had 
joined  our  hands,  men  called  him  my  husband.  But  he 


2±  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

very  well  knew  that  I  did  not  love  him,  nor  did  he  require 
my  love.  He  needed  a  nurse,  not  a  wife.  He  had  given 
me  his  name  as  a  father  gives  his  to  a  daughter;  and  I  was 
his  daughter,  a  true,  faithful,  and  obedient  daughter,  who 
joyfully  fulfilled  her  duty  and  tended  him  till  his  death." 

"  And  after  his  death,  child?  Years  have  elapsed  since 
then,  Kate.  Tell  me,  and  I  conjure  you,  tell  me  the  truth, 
the  simple,  plain  truth!  After  the  death  of  your  husband, 
then  even,  did  you  never  love?  " 

He  gazed  with  visible  anxiety,  with  breathless  expecta- 
tion, deep  into  her  eyes;  but  she  did  not  drop  them. 

"  Sire,"  said  she,  with  a  charming  smile,  "  till  a  few 
weeks  past,  I  have  often  mourned  over  myself;  and  it 
seemed  to  me  that  I  must,  in  the  desperation  of  my  singu- 
lar and  cold  nature,  lay  open  my  breast,  in  order  to  search 
there  for  the  heart,  which,  senseless  and  cold,  had  never 
betrayed  its  existence  by  its  stronger  beating.  Oh,  sire,  I 
was  full  of  trouble  about  myself;  and  in  my  foolish  rashness, 
I  accused  Heaven  of  having  robbed  me  of  the  noblest  feel- 
ing and  the  fairest  privilege  of  any  woman — the  capacity 
of  loving." 

"Till  the  past  few  weeks,  did  you  say,  Kate?"  asked 
the  king,  breathless  with  emotion. 

"  Yes,  sire,  until  the  day  on  which  you,  for  the  first 
time,  graciously  afforded  me  the  happiness  of  speaking 
with  me." 

The  king  uttered  a  low  cry,  and  drew  Catharine,  with 
impetuous  vehemence,  into  his  arms. 

"And  since,  tell  me  now,  you  dear  little  dove,  since 
then,  does  your  heart  throb?  " 

"Yes,  sire,  it  throbs,  oh,  it  often  throbs  to  bursting! 
When  I  hear  your  voice,  when  I  behold  your  countenance, 
it  is  as  if  a  cold  tremor  rilled  through  my  whole  being, 
and  drove  all  my  blood  to  the  heart.  It  is  as  though  my 
heart  anticipated  your  approach  before  my  eyes  discern 
you.  For  even  before  you  draw  near  me,  I  feel  a  peculiar 
trembling  of  the  heart,  and  the  breath  is  stifled  in  my 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  25 

bosom;  then  I  always  know  that  you  are  coming,  and  that 
your  presence  will  relieve  this  peculiar  tension  of  my  being. 
When  you  are  not  by  me  I  think  of  you,  and  when  I  sleep 
I  dream  of  you.  Tell  me,  sire,  you  who  know  every  thing, 
tell  me,  know  you  now  whether  I  love  you?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  love  me,"  cried  Henry,  to  whom  this 
strange  and  joyous  surprise  had  imparted  youthful  vivacity 
and  warmth.  "  Yes,  Kate,  you  love  me;  and  if  I  may  trust 
your  dear  confession,  I  am  your  first  love.  Kepeat  it  yet 
again;  you  were  nothing  but  a  daughter  to  Lord  Neville?  " 

"  Nothing  more,  sire! " 

"And  after  him  have  you  had  no  love?" 

"None,  sire!" 

"And  can  it  be  that  so  happy  a  marvel  has  come  to 
pass?  and  that  I  have  made,  not  a  widow,  biit  a  young 
maiden,  my  queen?  " 

As  he  now  gazed  at  her  with  warm,  passionate,  tender 
looks,  Catharine  cast  down  her  eyes,  and  a  deep  blush  cov- 
ered her  sweet  face. 

"Ah,  a  woman's  bashful  blushes,  what  an  exquisite 
sight!  "  cried  the  king,  and  while  he  wildly  pressed  Catha- 
rine to  his  bosom,  he  continued:  "  Oh,  are  we  not  foolish 
and  short-sighted  men,  all  of  us,  yes,  even  we  kings?  In 
order  that  I  might  not  be,  perhaps,  forced  to  send  my  sixth 
wife  also  to  the  scaffold,  I  chose,  in  trembling  dread  of  the 
deceitfulness  of  your  sex,  a  widow  for  my  queen,  and  this 
widow  with  a  blessed  confession,  mocks  at  the  new  law  of 
the  wise  Parliament,  and  makes  good  to  me  what  she  never 
promised."  * 

*  After  Catharine  Howard's  infidelity  and  incontinency  had  been 
proved,  and  she  had  atoned  for  them  by  her  death,  Parliament  en- 
acted a  law  "that  if  the  king  or  his  successors  should  intend  to  marry 
any  woman  whom  they  took  to  be  a  clean  and  pure  maid — if  she, 
not  being  so,  did  not  declare  the  same  to  the  king,  it  should  be  high 
treason;  and  all  who  knew  it,  and  did  not  reveal  it,  were  guilty  of 
ruisprision  of  treason." — "  Burnet's  History  of  the  Reformation_of  the 
Church  of  England."  London,  1681  (vol.  i,  p.  313). 
3 


"V 
26  HENRY   \m.   AND  HlS  COURT. 

"  Coine,  Kate,  give  me  a  kiss.  You  have  opened  be- 
fore me  to-day  a  happy,  blissful  future,  and  prepared  for 
me  a  great  and  unexpected  pleasure.  I  thank  you  for  it, 
Kate,  and  the  Mother  of  God  be  my  witness,  I  will  never 
forget  it." 

And  drawing  a  rich  diamond  ring  from  his  own  finger, 
and  putting  it  upon  Catharine's,  he  continued:  "Be  this 
ring  a  remembrancer  of  this  hour,  and  when  you  hereafter 
present  it  to  me,  with  a  request,  I  will  grant  that  request, 
Kate! " 

He  kissed  her  forehead,  and  was  about  to  press  her  more 
closely  in  his  arms,  when  suddenly  from  without  was  heard 
the  dull  roll  of  drums,  and  the  ringing  of  bells. 

The  king  started  a  moment  and  released  Catharine  from 
his  arms.  He  listened;  the  roll  of  drums  continued,  and 
now  and  then  was  heard  in  the  distance,  that  peculiar 
thundering  and  yet  sullen  sound,  which  so  much  resembles 
the  roar  and  rush  of  the  sea,  and  which  can  be  produced 
only  by  a  large  and  excited  mob. 

The  king,  with  a  fierce  curse,  pushed  open  the  glass 
door  leading  to  the  balcony,  and  walked  out. 

Catharine  gazed  after  him  with  a  strange,  half-timid, 
half-scornful  look.  "  I  have  not  at  least  told  him  that  I 
love  him,"  muttered  she.  "  He  has  construed  my  words  as 
it  suited  his  vanity.  No  matter.  I  will  not  die  on  the 
scaffold! " 

With  a  resolute  step,  and  firm,  energetic  air,  she  fol- 
lowed the  king  to  the  balcony.  The  roll  of  drums  was 
kept  up,  and  from  all  the  steeples  the  bells  were  pealing. 
The  night  was  dark  and  calm.  All  London  seemed  to 
slumber,  and  the  dark  houses  around  about  stood  up  out 
of  the  universal  darkness  like  huge  coffins. 

Suddenly  the  horizon  began  to  grow  bright,  and  on  the 
sky  appeared  a  streak  of  fiery  red,  which,  blazing  up  higher 
and  higher,  soon  illuminated  the  entire  horizon  with  a 
crimson  glow,  and  even  shed  its  glaring  fiery  l>eams  over 
the  balcony  on  which  stood  the  royal  pair. 


HENRY    VIII.    AXD    HIS    COURT.  27 

Still  the  bells  clanged  and  clamored;  and  blended  with 
their  peals  was  heard  now  and  then,  in  the  distance,  a 
piercing  shriek  and  a  clamor  as  of  thousands  and  thousands 
of  confusedly  mingled  voices. 

Suddenly  the  king  turned  to  Catharine,  and  his  coun- 
tenance, which  was  just  then  overspread  by  the  fire-light 
as  with  a  blood-red  veil,  had  now  assumed  an  expression 
of  savage,  demoniacal  delight. 

"  Ah,"  said  he,  "  I  know  what  it  is.  You  had  wholly 
bewildered  me,  and  stolen  away  my  attention,  you  little 
enchantress.  I  had  for  a  moment  ceased  to  be  a  king,  be- 
cause I  wished  to  be  entirely  your  lover.  But  now  I  be- 
think me  again  of  my  avenging  sovereignty!  It  is  the 
fagot-piles  about  the  stake  which  flame  so  merrily  yonder. 
And  that  yelling  and  clamor  indicate  that  my  merry  people 
are  enjoying  with  all  their  soul  the  comedy  which  I  have 
had  played  before  them  to-day,  for  the  honor  of  God,  and 
my  unimpeachable  royal  dignity." 

"The  stake!"  cried  Catharine,  trembling.  "Your 
majesty  does  not  mean  thereby  to  say  that  right  yonder, 
men  are  to  die  a  cruel,  painful  death — that  the  same  hour 
in  which  their  king  pronounces  himself  happy  and  content, 
some  of  his  subjects  are  to  be  condemned  to  dreadful  tor- 
ture, to  a  horrible  destruction!  Oh,  no!  my  king  will  not 
overcloud  his  queen's  wedding-day  with  so  dark  a  veil  of 
death.  He  will  not  wish  to  dim  my  happiness  so  cruelly." 

The  king  laughed.  "  No,  I  will  not  darken  it,  but  light 
it  up  with  bright  flames,"  said  he;  and  as,  with  outstretched 
arm,  he  pointed  over  to  the  glaring  heavens,  he  continued: 
"  There  are  our  wedding-torches,  my  Kate,  and  the  most 
sacred  and  beautiful  which  I  could  find,  for  they  burn  to 
the  honor  of  God  and  of  the  king.*  And  the  heavenward 
flaring  flames  which  carries  up  the  souls  of  the  heretics  will 
give  to  my  God  joyous  intelligence  of  His  most  faithful  and 

*  "  Life  of  King  Henry  the  Eighth,  founded  on  Authentic  and 
Original  Documents."  By  Patrick  Fraser  Tytler.  (Edinburgh,  1837, 
p.  440.) 


28  HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

obedient  son,  who,  even  on  the  day  of  his  happiness,  for- 
gets not  his  kingly  duty,  but  ever  remains  the  avenging 
and  destroying  minister  of  his  God/' 

He  looked  frightful  as  he  thus  spoke.  His  countenance, 
lit  up  by  the  fire,  had  a  fierce,  threatening  expression;  his 
eyes  blazed;  and  a  cold,  cruel  smile  played  about  his  thin, 
firmly-pressed  lips. 

"  Oh,  he  knows  no  pity!  "  murmured  Catharine  to  her- 
self, as  in  a  paroxysm  of  anguish  she  stared  at  the  king,  who, 
in  fanatical  enthusiasm,  was  looking  over  toward  the  fire, 
into  which,  at  his  command,  they  were  perhaps  hurling  to  a 
cruel,  torturing  death,  some  poor  wretch,  to  the  honor  of 
God  and  the  king.  "  No,  he  knows  no  pity  and  no  mercy." 

Now  Henry  turned  to  her,  and  laying  his  extended  hand 
softly  on  the  back  of  her  slender  neck,  he  spanned  it  with 
his  fingers,  and  whispered  in  her  ear  tender  words  and  vows 
of  love. 

Catharine  trembled.  This  caress  of  the  king,  however 
harmless  in  itself,  had  in  it  for  her  something  dismal  and 
dreadful.  It  was  the  involuntary,  instinctive  touch  of  the 
headsman,  who  examines  the  neck  of  his  victim,  and 
searches  on  it  for  the  place  where  he  will  make  the  stroke. 
Thus  had  Anne  Boleyn  once  put  her  tender  white  hands 
about  her  slender  neck,  and  said  to  the  headsman,  brought 
over  from  Calais  specially  for  her  execution:  "  I  pray  you 
strike  me  well  and  surely!  I  have,  indeed,  but  a  slim  little 
neck."  *  Thus  had  the  king  clutched  his  hand  about  the 
neck  of  Catharine  Howard,  his  fifth  wife,  when,  certain 
of  her  infidelity,  he  had  thrust  her  from  himself  with  fierce 
execrations,  when  she  would  have  clung  to  him.  The  dark 
marks  of  that  grip  were  still  visible  upon  her  neck  when 
she  laid  it  on  the  block. f 

And  this  dreadful  twining  of  his  fingers  Catharine  must 
now  endure  as  a  caress;  at  which  she  must  smile,  which  she 
must  receive  with  all  the  appearance  of  delight. 

While  he  spanned  her  neck,  he   whispered  in  her 

*  Tytlcr,  p.  882.  f  Leti,  vol.  i,  p.  193. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  29 

ear  words  of  tenderness,  and  bent  his  face  close  to  her 
cheeks. 

But  Catharine  heeded  not  his  passionate  whispers.  She 
saw  nothing  save  the  blood-red  handwriting  of  fire  upon 
the  sky.  She  heard  nothing  save  the  shrieks  of  the 
wretched  victims. 

"Mercy,  mercy!"  faltered  she.  "Oh,  let  this  day  be 
a  day  of  festivity  for  all  your  subjects!  Be  merciful,  and 
if  you  would  have  me  really  believe  that  you  love  me,  grant 
this  first  request  which  I  make  of  you.  Grant  me  the  lives 
of  these  wretched  ones.  Mercy,  sire,  mercy! " 

And  as  if  the  queen's  supplication  had  found  an  echo, 
suddenly  was  heard  from  the  chamber  a  wailing,  despairing 
voice,  repeating  loudly  and  in  tones  of  anguish:  "  Mercy, 
your  majesty,  mercy! "  The  king  turned  round  impetu- 
ously, and  his  face  assumed  a  dark,  wrathful  expression. 
He  fastened  his  searching  eyes  on  Catharine,  as  though 
he  would  read  in  her  looks  whether  she  knew  who  had 
dared  to  interrupt  their  conversation. 

But  Catharine's  countenance  expressed  unconcealed 
astonishment.  "Mercy,  mercy!"  repeated  the  voice  from 
the  interior  of  the  chamber. 

The  king  uttered  an  angry  exclamation,  and  hastily 
withdrew  from  the  balcony. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

KING  BY  THE  WRATH  OF   GOD. 

"WHO  dares  interrupt  us?"  cried  the  king,  as  with 
headlong  step  he  returned  to  the  chamber — "  who  dares 
speak  of  mercy?  " 

"  I  dare !  "  said  a  young  lady,  who,  pale,  with  distorted 
features,  in  frightful  agitation,  now  hastened  to  the  king 
and  prostrated  herself  before  him. 


30  1 1  i:\RY    VITT.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

"Anne  Askew!''  cried  Catharine,  amazed.  "Anue, 
what  want  you  here?  " 

"  I  want  mercy,  mercy  for  those  wretched  ones,  who  are 
suffering  yonder,"  cried  the  young  maiden,  pointing  with 
an  expression  of  horror  to  the  reddened  sky.  "I  want 
merqy  for  the  king  himself,  who  is  so  cruel  as  to  send  the 
noblest  and  the  best  of  his  subjects  to  the  slaughter  like 
miserable  brutes! " 

"Oh,  sire,  have  compassion  on  this  poor  child!"  be- 
sought Catharine,  turning  to  Henry,  "  compassion  on  her 
impassioned  excitement  and  her  youthful  ardor!  She  is  as 
yet  unaccustomed  to  these  frightful  scenes — she  knows  not 
yet  that  it  is  the  sad  duty  of  kings  to  be  constrained  to 
punish,  where  they  might  prefer  to  pardon!  " 

Henry  smiled;  but  the  look  which  he  cast  on  the  kneel- 
ing girl  made  Catharine  tremble.  There  was  a  death-war- 
rant in  that  look! 

"  Anne  Askew,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  your  second  maid 
of  honor?"  asked  the  king;  "and  it  was  at  your  express 
wish  that  she  received  that  place?" 

"  Yes  sire." 

"  You  knew  her,  then?  " 

"  No,  sire!  I  saw  her  a  few  days  ago  for  the  first  time. 
But  she  had  already  won  my  heart  at  our  first  meeting, 
and  I  feel  that  I  shall  love  her.  Exercise  forbearance, 
then,  your  majesty! " 

But  the  king  was  still  thoughtful,  and  Catharine's  an- 
swers did  not  yet  satisfy  him. 

"  Why,  then,  do  you  interest  yourself  for  this  young 
lady,  if  you  did  not  know  her?  " 

"  She  has  been  so  warmlv  recommended  to  me." 

"By  whom?" 

Catharine  hesitated  a  moment;  she  felt  that  she  had, 
perhaps,  in  her  zeal,  gone  too  far,  and  that  it  was  impru- 
dent to  tell  the  king  the  truth.  But  the  king's  keen, 
penetrating  look  was  resting  on  her,  and  she  recollected 
that  he  had,  the  first  thing  that  evening,  so  urgently  and 


THE  APPEAL  OF  ANNE  ASKEW. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  31 

solemnly  conjured  her  to  always  tell  him  the  truth.  Be- 
sides, it  was  no  secret  at  court  who  the  protector  of  this 
young  maiden  was,  and  who  had  been  the  means  of  her 
obtaining  the  place  of  maid  of  honor  to  the  queen,  a  place 
which  so  many  wealthy  and  distinguished  families  had 
solicited  for  their  daughters. 

"  Who  recommended  this  lady  to  you?  "  repeated  the 
king,  and  already  his  ill-humor  began  to  redden  his  face, 
and  make  his  voice  tremble. 

"  Archbishop  Cranmer  did  so,  sire,"  said  Catharine  as 
she  raised  her  eyes  to  the  king,  and  looked  at  him  with  a 
smile  surpassingly  charming. 

At  that  moment  was  heard  without,  more  loudly,  the 
roll  of  drums,  which  nevertheless  was  partially  drowned 
by  piercing  shrieks  and  horrible  cries  of  distress.  The 
blaze  of  the  fire  shot  up  higher,  and  now  was  seen  the 
bright  flame,  which  with  murderous  rage  licked  the  sky 
above. 

Anne  Askew,  who  had  kept  respectful  silence  during 
the  conversation  of  the  royal  pair,  now  felt  herself  com- 
pletely overcome  by  this  horrible  sight,  and  bereft  of  the 
last  remnant  of  self-possession. 

"  My  God,  my  God! "  said  she,  quivering  from  the  in- 
ternal tremor,  and  stretching  her  hands  beseechingly  to- 
ward the  king,  "  do  you  not  hear  that  frightful  wail  of  the 
wretched?  Sire,  by  the  thought  of  your  own  dying  hour, 
I  conjure  you  have  compassion  on  these  miserable  beings! 
Let  them  not,  at  least,  be  thrown  alive  into  the  flames. 
Spare  them  this  last  frightful  torture." 

King  Henry  cast  a  wrathful  look  on  the  kneeling  girl; 
then  strode  past  her  to  the  door,  which  led  into  the  ad- 
joining hall,  in  which  the  courtiers  were  waiting  for  their 
king. 

He  beckoned  to  the  two  bishops,  Cranmer  and  Gardiner, 
to  come  nearer,  and  ordered  the  servants  to  throw  the  hall 
doors  wide  open. 

The  scene  now  afforded  an  animated  and  singular  spec- 


32  HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

tacle,  and  this  chamber,  just  before  so  quiet,  was  suddenly 
changed  to  the  theatre  of  a  great  drama,  which  was  per- 
haps to  end  tragically.  In  the  queen's  bedchamber,  a  small 
room,  but  furnished  with  the  utmost  luxury  and  splendor, 
the  principal  characters  of  this  scene  were  congregated.  In 
the  middle  of  the  space  stood  the  king  in  his  robes,  em- 
broidered with  gold  and  sparkling  with  jewels,  which  were 
irradiated  by  the  bright  light  of  the  chandelier.  Near 
him  was  seen  the  young  queen,  whose  beautiful  and  lovely 
face  was  turned  in  anxious  expectation  toward  the  king, 
in  whose  stern  and  rigid  features  she  sought  to  read  the 
development  of  this  scene. 

Not  far  from  her  still  knelt  the  young  maiden,  hiding 
in  her  hands  her  face  drenched  in  tears;  while  farther  away. 
in  the  background,  were  the  two  bishops  observing  with 
grave,  cool  tranquillity  the  group  before  them.  Through 
the  open  hall  doors  were  descried  the  expectant  and  curious 
countenances  of  the  courtiers  standing  with  their  heads 
crowded  close  together  in  the  space  before  the  doors;  and 
opposite  to  them,  through  the  open  door  leading  to  the 
balcony,  was  seen  the  fiery.  bla/ing  sky,  and  heard  the 
clanging  of  the  bells  and  the  rolling  of  the  drums,  the 
piercing  shrieks  and  the  yells  of  the  people. 

A  deep  silence  ensued,  and  when  the  king  spoke,  the 
tone  of  his  voice  was  so  hard  and  cold,  that  an  involuntary 
shudder  ran  through  all  present. 

"  My  Lord  Bishops  of  Winchester  and  Canterbury,"  said 
the  king,  "  we  have  called  you  that  you  may,  by  the  might 
of  your  prayers  and  the  wisdom  of  your  words,  rid  this 
young  girl  here  from  the  devil,  who,  without  doubt,  has 
the  mastery  over  her,  since  she  dares  charge  her  king  and 
master  with  cruelty  and  injustice." 

The  two  bishops  drew  nearer  to  the  kneeling  girl;  each 
laid  a  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and  bent  over  her,  but  the 
one  with  an  expression  of  countenance  wholly  different 
from  that  of  the  other. 

Cranmer's  look  was  gentle  and  serious,  and  at  the  saiut- 


HENRY    VIII.    A.ND   HIS   COURT.  33 

time  a  compassionate  and  encouraging  smile  played  about 
his  thin  lips. 

;  Gardiner's  features  on  the  contrary  bore  the  expression 
of  cruel,  cold-hearted  irony;  and  the  smile  which  rested 
on  his  thick,  protruding  lips  was  the  joyful  and  merciless 
smile  of  a  priest  ready  to  sacrifice  a  victim  to  his  idol. 

"  Courage,  my  daughter,  courage  and  prudence !  "  whis- 
pered Cranmer. 

"  God,  who  blesses  the  righteous  and  punishes  and  de- 
stroys sinners,  be  with  thee  and  with  us  all! "  said  Gar- 
diner. 

But  Anne  Askew  recoiled  with  a  shudder  from  the 
touch  of  his  hand,  and  with  an  impetuous  movement 
pushed  it  away  from  her  shoulder. 

"  Touch  me  not;  you  are  the  hangman  of  those  poor 
people  whom  they  are  putting  to  death  down  yonder,"  said 
she  impetuously;  and  as  she  turned  to  the  king  and  ex- 
tended her  hands  imploringly  toward  him,  she  cried: 
"  Mercy,  King  Henry,  mercy!  " 

"Mercy!"  repeated  the  king,  "mercy,  and  for  whom? 
Who  are  they  that  they  are  putting  to  death  down  there? 
Tell  me,  forsooth,  my  lord  bishops,  who  are  they  that  are 
led  to  the  stake  to-day?  Who  are  the  condemned?  " 

"  They  are  heretics,  who  devote  themselves  to  this  new 
false  doctrine  which  has  come  over  to  us  from  Germany, 
and  who  dare  refuse  to  recognize  the  spiritual  supremacy 
of  our  lord  and  king,"  said  Bishop  Gardiner. 

"  They  are  Roman  Catholics,  who  regard  the  Pope  of 
Koine  as  the  chief  shepherd  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  and 
will  regard  nobody  but  him  as  their  lord,"  said  Bishop 
Cranmer. 

"  Ah,  behold  this  young  maiden  accuses  us  of  injustice," 
cried  the  king;  "  and  yet,  you  say  that  not  heretics  alone 
are  executed  down  there,  but  also  Romanists.  It  appears 
to  me  then  that  we  have  justly  and  impartially,  as  always, 
punished  only  criminals  and  given  over  the  guilty  to  jus- 
tice." 


34  HEMtY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

"  Oh,  had  you  seen  what  I  have  seen,"  said  Anne  Askew, 
shuddering,  "  then  would  you  collect  all  your  vital  energies 
for  a  single  cry,  for  a  single  word — mercy!  and  that  word 
would  you  shout  out  loud  enough  to  reach  yon  frightful 
place  of  torture  and  horror." 

"  What  saw  you,  then?  "  asked  the  king,  smiling. 

Anne  Askew  had  stood  up,  and  her  tall,  slender  form 
now  lifted  itself,  like  a  lily,  between  the  sombre  forms  of 
the  bishops.  Her  eye  was  fixed  and  glaring;  her  noble  and 
delicate  features  bore  the  expression  of  horror  and  dread. 

"  I  saw,"  said  she,  "  a  woman  whom  they  were  leading 
to  execution.  Not  a  criminal,  but  a  noble  lady,  whose 
proud  and  lofty  heart  never  harbored  a  thought  of  treason 
or  disloyalty,  but  who,  true  to  her  faith  and  her  convic- 
tions, would  not  forswear  the  God  whom  she  served.  As 
ehe  passed  through  the  crowd,  it  seemed  as  if  a  halo  encom- 
passed her  head,  and  covered  her  white  hair  with  silvery 
rays;  all  bowed  before  her,  and  the  hardest  natures  wept 
over  the  unfortunate  woman  who  had  lived  more  than 
seventy  years,  and  yet  was  not  allowed  to  die  in  her  bed, 
but  was  to  be  slaughtered  to  the  glory  of  God  and  of  the 
king.  But  she  smiled,  and  graciously  saluting  the  weep- 
ing and  sobbing  multitude,  she  advanced  to  the  scaffold 
as  if  she  were  ascending  a  throne  to  receive  the  homage  of 
her  people.  Two  years  of  imprisonment  had  blanched  her 
cheek,  but  had  not  been  able  to  destroy  the  fire  of  her  eye, 
or  the  strength  of  her  mind,  and  seventy  years  had  not 
bowed  her  neck  or  broken  her  spirit.  Proud  and  firm,  she 
mounted  the  steps  of  the  scaffold,  and  once  more  saluted 
the  people  and  cried  aloud,  '  I  will  pray  to  God  for  you.' 
But  as  the  headsman  approached  and  demanded  that  she 
should  allow  her  hands  to  be  bound,  and  that  she  should 
kneel  in  order  to  lay  her  head  upon  the  block,  she  re- 
fused, and  angrily  pushed  him  away.  '  Only  traitors  and 
criminals  lay  their  head  on  the  block! '  exclaimed  she,  with 
a  loud,  thundering  voice.  '  There  is  no  occasion  for  me 
to  do  so,  and  I  will  not  submit  to  your  bloody  laws  as  long 


HENRY   VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  35 

as  there  is  a  breath  in  me.  Take,  then,  my  life,  if  you 
can.' 

"  And  now  began  a  scene  which  filled  the  hearts  of  the 
lookers-on  with  fear  and  horror.  The  countess  flew  like 
a  hunted  beast  round  and  round  the  scaffold.  Her  white 
hair  streamed  in  the  wind;  her  black  grave-clothes  rustled 
around  her  like  a  dark  cloud,  and  behind  her,  with  uplifted 
axe,  came  the  headsman,  in  his  fiery  red  dress;  he,  ever 
endeavoring  to  strike  her  with  the  falling  axe,  but  she, 
ever  trying,  by  moving  her  head  to  and  fro,  to  evade  the 
descending  stroke.  But  at  length  her  resistance  became 
weaker;  the  blows  of  the  axe  reached  her,  and  stained  her 
white  hair,  hanging  loose  about  her  shoulders,  with  crim- 
son streaks.  With  a  heart-rending  cry,  she  fell  fainting. 
Near  her,  exhausted  also,  sank  down  the  headsman,  bathed 
in  sweat.  This  horrible  wild  chase  had  lamed  his  arm  and 
broken  his  strength.  Panting  and  breathless,  he  was  not 
able  to  drag  this  fainting,  bleeding  woman  to  the  block, 
or  to  lift  up  the  axe  to  separate  her  noble  head  from  the 
body.*  The  crowd  shrieked  with  distress  and  horror,  im- 
ploring and  begging  for  mercy,  and  even  the  lord  chief  jus- 
tice could  not  refrain  from  tears,  and  he  ordered  the  cruel 
work  to  be  suspended  until  the  countess  and  the  headsman 
should  have  regained  strength;  for  a  living,  not  a  dying 
person  was  to  be  executed:  thus  said  the  law.  They  made 
a  pallet  for  the  countess  on  the  scaffold  and  endeavored  to 
restore  her;  invigorating  wine  was  supplied  to  the  heads- 
man, to  renew  his  strength  for  the  work  of  death;  and  the 
crowd  turned  to  the  stakes  which  were  prepared  on  both 
sides  of  the  scaffold,  and  at  which  four  other  martyrs  were 
to  be  burnt.  But  I  flew  here  like  a  hunted  doe,  and  now, 
king,  I  lie  at  your  feet.  There  is  still  time.  Pardon,  king, 
pardon  for  the  Countess  of  Somerset,  the  last  of  the 
Plantagenets." 

"  Pardon,  sire,  pardon! "  repeated  Catharine  Parr, 
weeping  and  trembling,  as  she  clung  to  her  husband's  side. 

*  Tytler,  p.  480. 


30  m:\RY   vni.  AND  ills  couin. 

"  Pardon! "  repeated  Archbishop  Cranmer;  and  a  few  of 
the  courtiers  re-echoed  it  in  a  timid  and  anxious  whisper. 

The  king's  large,  brilliant  eyes  glanced  around  the 
whole  assembly,  with  a  quick,  penetrating  look.  "  And  you, 
my  Lord  Bishop  Gardiner,"  asked  he,  in  a  cold,  sarcastic 
tone,  "will  you  also  ask  for  mercy,  like  all  these  weak- 
hearted  souls  here?  " 

"  The  Lord  our  God  is  a  jealous  God,"  said  Gardiner, 
solemnly,  "and  it  is  written  that  God  will  punish  the 
sinner  unto  the  third  and  fourth  generation." 

"  And  what  is  written  shall  stand  true!  "  exclaimed  the 
king,  in  a  voice  of  thunder.  "  No  mercy  for  evil-doers,  no 
pity  for  criminals.  The  axe  must  fall  upon  the  head  of  the 
guilty,  the  flames  shall  consume  the  bodies  of  criminals." 

"  Sire,  think  of  your  high  vocation! "  exclaimed  Anne 
Askew,  in  a  tone  of  enthusiasm.  "  Reflect  what  a  glorious 
name  you  have  assumed  to  yourself  in  this  land.  You  call 
yourself  the  head  of  the  Church,  and  you  want  to  rule  and 
govern  upon  earth  in  God's  stead.  Exercise  mercy,  then, 
for  you  entitle  yourself  king  by  the  grace  of  God." 

"  Xo,  I  do  not  call  myself  king  by  God's  grace;  I  call 
myself  king  by  God's  wrath!''  exclaimed  Henry,  as  he 
raised  his  arm  menacingly.  "  It  is  my  duty  to  send  sinners 
to  God;  may  He  have  mercy  on  them  there  above,  if  lie 
will!  I  am  the  punishing  judge,  and  I  judge  mercilessly, 
according  to  the  law,  without  compassion.  Let  those  whom 
I  have  condemned  appeal  to  God,  and  may  He  have  mercy 
upon  them.  I  cannot  do  it,  nor  will  I.  Kings  are  here 
to  punish,  and  they  are  like  to  God,  not  in  His  love,  but  in 
His  avenging  wrath." 

"  Woe,  then,  woe  to  you  and  to  all  of  us! "  exclaimed 
Anne  Askew.  Woe  to  you,  King  Henry,  if  wliat  you  now 
say  is  the  truth !  Then  are  they  right,  those  men  who  are 
bound  to  yonder  slakes,  when  they  brand  you  with  the 
name  of  tyrant:  then  is  the  Bishop  of  Eome  right  when  he 
upbraids  you  as  an  apostate  and  degenerate  son,  and  hurls 
his  anathemas  against  you!  Then  you  know  not  God,  wh<» 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COUKT.  37 

is  love  and  mercy;  then  you  are  no  disciple  of  the  Saviour, 
who  has  said,  *  Love  your  enemies,  bless  them  that  curse 
you/  Woe  to  you,  King  Henry,  if  matters  are  really  so  bad 
with  you;  if " 

"Silence,  unhappy  woman,  silence!"  exclaimed  Catha- 
rine; and  as  she  vehemently  pushed  away  the  furious  girl 
she  grasped  the  king's  hand,  and  pressed  it  to  her  lips. 
"  Sire,"  whispered  she,  with  intense  earnestness,  "  sire,  you 
told  me  just  now  that  you  loved  me.  Prove  it  by  pardoning 
this  maiden,  and  having  consideration  for  her  impassioned 
excitement.  Prove  it  by  allowing  me  to  lead  Anne  Askew 
to  her  room  and  enjoin  silence  upon  her." 

But  at  this  moment  the  king  was  wholly  inaccessible  to 
any  other  feelings  than  those  of  anger  and  delight  in 
blood. 

He  indignantly  repelled  Catharine,  and  without  mov- 
ing his  sharp,  penetrating  look  from  the  young  maiden,  he 
said  in  a  quick,  hollow  tone:  "Let  her  alone;  let  her 
speak;  let  no  one  dare  to  interrupt  her!  " 

Catharine,  trembling  with  anxiety  and  inwardly  hurt  at 
the  harsh  manner  of  the  king,  retired  with  a  sigh  to  the 
embrasure  of  one  of  the  windows. 

Anne  Askew  had  not  noticed  what  was  going  on  about 
her.  She  remained  in  that  state  of  exaltation  which  cares 
for  no  consequences  and  which  trembles  before  no  danger. 
She  would  at  this  moment  have  gone  to  the  stake  with 
cheerful  alacrity,  and  she  almost  longed  for  this,  blessed 
martyrdom. 

"  Speak,  Anne  Askew,  speak! "  commanded  the  king. 
"  Tell  me,  do  you  know  what  the  countess,  for  whose  par- 
don you  are  beseeching  me,  has  done?  Know  you  why 
those  four  men  were  sent  to  the  stake?  " 

"  I  do  know,  King  Henry,  by  the  wrath  of  God,"  said 
the  maiden,  with  burning  passionateness.  "  I  know  why 
you  have  sent  the  noble  countess  to  the  slaughter-house, 
and  why  you  will  exercise  no  mercy  toward  her.  She  is  of 
noble,  of  royal  blood,  and  Cardinal  Pole  is  her  son.  You 


38  HENRY    V11I.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

would  punish  the  son  through  the  mother,  and  because 
you  cannot  throttle  the  cardinal,  you  murder  his  mother." 

"Oh,  you  are  a  very  knowing  child!"  cried  the  king, 
with  an  inhuman,  ironical  laugh.  "  You  know  my  most 
secret  thoughts  and  my  most  hidden  feelings.  Without 
doubt  you  are  a  good  papist,  since  the  death  of  the  popish 
countess  fills  you  with  such  heart-rending  grief.  Then 
you  must  confess,  at  the  least,  that  it  is  right  to  burn  the 
four  heretics! " 

"  Heretics! "  exclaimed  Anne,  enthusiastically,  "  call 
you  heretics  those  noble  men  who  go  gladly  and  boldly  to 
death  for  their  convictions  and  their  faith?  King  Henry! 
King  Henry!  Woe  to  you  if  these  men  are  condemned  as 
heretics!  They  alone  are  the  faithful,  they  are  the  true 
servants  of  God.  They  have  freed  themselves  from  human 
supremacy,  and  as  you  would  not  recognize  the  pope,  so 
they  will  not  recognize  you  as  head  of  the  Church!  God 
alone,  they  say,  is  Lord  of  the  Church  and  Master  of  their 
consciences,  and  who  can  be  presumptuous  enough  to  call 
them  criminals?  " 

"  I!  "  exclaimed  Henry  the  Eighth,  in  a  powerful  tone. 
"  I  dare  do  it.  I  say  that  they  are  heretics,  and  that  I  will 
destroy  them,  will  tread  them  all  beneath  my  feet,  all  of 
them,  all  who  think  as  they  do!  I  say  that  I  will  shed 
the  blood  of  these  criminals,  and  prepare  for  them  tor- 
ments at  which  human  nature  will  shudder  and  quake. 
God  will  manifest  Himself  by  me  in  fire  and  blood!  He  has 
put  the  sword  into  my  hand,  and  I  will  wield  it  for  His 
glory.  Like  St.  George,  I  will  tread  the  dragon  of  heresy 
beneath  my  feet! " 

And  haughtily  raising  his  crimsoned  face  and  rolling 
his  great  bloodshot  eyes  wildly  around  the  circle,  he  con- 
tinued: "  Hear  this  all  of  you  who  are  here  assembled;  no 
mercy  for  heretics,  no  pardon  for  papists.  It  is  I,  I  alone, 
whom  the  Lord  our  God  has  chosen  and  blessed  as  His 
hangman  and  executioner!  I  am  the  high-priest  of  II  is 
Church,  and  he  who  dares  deny  me,  denies  God;  and  he 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  39 

who  is  so  presumptuous  as  to  do  reverence  to  auy  other 
head  of  the  Church,  is  a  priest  of  Baal  and  kneels  to  an 
idolatrous  image.  Kneel  down  all  of  you  before  me,  and 
reverence  in  me  God,  whose  earthly  representative  I  am, 
and  who  reveals  Himself  through  me  in  His  fearful  and 
exalted  majesty.  Kneel  down,  for  I  am  sole  head  of  the 
Church  and  high-priest  of  our  God!  " 

And  as  if  at  one  blow  all  knees  bent;  all  those  haughty 
cavaliers,  those  ladies  sparkling  with  jewels  and  gold,  even 
the  two  bishops  and  the  queen  fell  upon  the  ground. 

The  king  gazed  for  a  moment  on  this  sight,  and,  with 
radiant  looks  and  a  smile  of  triumph,  his  eyes  ran  over  this 
assembly,  consisting  of  the  noblest  of  his  kingdom,  hum- 
bled before  him. 

Suddenly  they  were  fastened  on  Anne  Askew. 

She  alone  had  not  bent  her  knee,  but  stood  in  the  midst 
of  the  kneelers,  proud  and  upright  as  the  king  himself. 

A  dark  cloud  passed  over  the  king's  countenance. 

"  You  obey  not  my  command?  "  asked  he. 

She  shook  her  curly  head  and  fixed  on  him  a  steady, 
piercing  look.  "  No,"  said  she,  "  like  those  over  yonder 
whose  last  death-groan  we  even  now  hear,  like  them,  I 
say:  To  God  alone  is  honor  due,  and  He  alone  is  Lord  of 
His  Church!  If  you  wish  me  to  bend  my  knee  before  you 
as  my  king,  I  will  do  it,  but  I  bow  not  to  you  as  the  head 
of  the  holy  Church!" 

A  murmur  of  surprise  flew  through  the  assembly,  and 
every  eye  was  turned  with  fear  and  amazement  on  this 
bold  young  girl,  who  confronted  the  king  with  a  counte- 
nance smiling  and  glowing  with  enthusiasm. 

At  a  sign  from  Henry  the  kneelers  arose  and  awaited 
in  breathless  silence  the  terrible  scene  that  was  coming. 

A  pause  ensued.  King  Henry  himself  was  struggling 
for  breath,  and  needed  a  moment  to  collect  himself. 

Not  as  though  wrath  and  passion  had  deprived  him  of 
speech.  He  was  neither  wrathful  nor  passionate,  and  it 
was  only  joy  that  obstructed  his  breathing — the  joy  of 


±0  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

having  again  found  a  victim  with  which  he  might  satisfy 
his  desire  for  blood,  on  whose  agony  he  might  feast  his 
eyes,  whose  dying  sigh  he  might  greedily  inhale. 

The  king  was  never  more  cheerful  than  when  he  had 
signed  a  death-warrant.  For  then  he  was  in  full  enjoy- 
ment of  his  greatness  as  lord  over  the  lives  and  deaths  of 
millions  of  other  men,  and  this  feeling  made  him  proud 
and  happy,  and  fully  conscious  of  his  exalted  position. 

Hence,  as  he  now  turned  to  Anne  Askew,  his  counte- 
nance was  calm  and  serene,  and  his  voice  friendly,  almost 
tender. 

"  Anne  Askew,"  said  he,  "  do  you  know  that  the  words 
you  have  now  spoken  make  you  guilty  of  high  treason?  " 

"  I  know  it,  sire." 

"  And  you  know  what  punishment  awaits  traitors?  " 

"  Death,  I  know  it." 

"Death  by  fire!"  said  the  king  with  perfect  calmness 
and  composure. 

A  hollow  murmur  ran  through  the  assembly.  Only  one 
voice  dared  give  utterance  to  the  word  mercy. 

It  was  Catharine,  the  king's  consort,  who  spoke  this  one 
word.  She  stepped  forward,  and  was  about  to  rush  to  the 
king  and  once  more  implore  his  mercy  and  pity.  But  she 
felt  herself  gently  held  back.  Archbishop  Cranmer  stood 
near  her,  regarding  her  with  a  serious  and  beseeching  look. 

"  Compose  yourself,  compose  yourself,"  murmured  he. 
"  You  cannot  save  her;  she  is  lost.  Think  of  yourself,  and 
of  the  pure  and  holy  religion  whose  protectress  you  are. 
Preserve  yourself  for  your  Church  and  your  companions  in 
the  faith!" 

"  And  must  she  die?  "  asked  Catharine,  whose  eyes  filled 
with  tears  as  she  looked  toward  the  poor  young  child,  who 
was  confronting  the  king  with  such  a  beautiful  and  inno- 
cent smile. 

"  Perhaps  we  may  still  save  her,  but  this  is  not  the  mo- 
ment for  it.  Any  opposition  now  would  only  irritate  tho 
king  the  more,  and  he  might  cause  the  girl  to  be  instantly 


HENRY    Yin.    AND   HIS    COURT.  41 

thrown  into  the  flames  of  the  fires  still  burning  yonder! 
So  let  us  be  silent." 

"  Yes,  silence,"  murmured  Catharine,  with  a  shudder, 
as  she  withdrew  again  to  the  embrasure  of  the  window. 

"  Death  by  fire  awaits  you,  Anne  Askew! "  repeated  the 
king.  "  No  mercy  for  the  traitress  who  vilifies  and  scoffs 
at  her  king! " 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   EIVALS. 

AT  the  very  moment  when  the  king  was  pronouncing, 
In  a  voice  almost  exultant,  Anne  Askew's  sentence  of  death, 
one  of  the  king's  cavaliers  appeared  on  the  threshold  of  the 
royal  chamber  and  advanced  toward  the  king. 

He  was  a  young  man  of  noble  and  imposing  appearance, 
whose  lofty  bearing  contrasted  strangely  with  the  humble 
and  submissive  attitude  of  the  rest  of  the  courtiers.  His 
tall,  slim  form  was  clad  in  a  coat  of  mail  glittering  with 
gold;  over  his  shoulders  hung  a  velvet  mantle  decorated 
with  a  princely  crown;  and  his  head,  covered  with  dark  ring- 
lets, was  adorned  with  a  cap  embroidered  with  gold,  from 
which  a  long  white  ostrich-feather  drooped  to  his  shoulder. 
His  oval  face  presented  the  full  type  of  aristocratic  beauty; 
his  cheeks  were  of  a  clear,  transparent  paleness;  about  his 
slightly  pouting  mouth  played  a  smile,  half  contemptuous 
and  half  languid;  the  high,  arched  brow  and  delicately 
chiselled  aquiline  nose  gave  to  his  face  an  expression  at  once 
bold  and  thoughtful.  The  eyes  alone  were  not  in  harmony 
with  his  face;  they  were  neither  languid  like  the  mouth, 
nor  pensive  like  the  brow.  All  the  fire  and  all  the  bold 
and  wanton  passion  of  youth  shot  from  those  dark,  flashing 
eyes.  When  he  looked  down,  he  might  have  been  taken 
for  a  completely  worn-out,  misanthropic  aristocrat;  but 


42  HENRY   VIII.   AND  HIS   COURT. 

when  he  raised  those  ever-flashing  and  sparkling  eyes, 
then  was  seen  the  young  man  full  of  dashing  courage 
and  ambitious  desires,  of  passionate  warmth  and  measure- 
less pride. 

He  approached  the  king,  as  already  stated,  and  as  he 
bent  his  knee  before  him,  he  said  in  a  full,  pleasant  voice: 
"  Mercy,  sire,  mercy!  " 

The  king  stepped  back  in  astonishment,  and  turned 
upon  the  bold  speaker  a  look  almost  of  amazement. 

"  Thomas  Seymour!  "  said  he.  "  Thomas,  you  have  re- 
turned, then,  and  your  first  act  is  again  an  indiscretion  and 
a  piece  of  foolhardy  rashness?  " 

The  young  man  smiled.  "  I  have  returned,"  said  he, 
"  that  is  to  say,  I  have  had  a  sea-fight  with  the  Scots  and 
taken  from  them  four  men-of-war.  With  these  I  hastened 
hither  to  present  them  to  you,  my  king  and  lord,  as  a 
wedding-gift,  and  just  as  I  entered  the  anteroom  I  heard 
your  voice  pronouncing  a  sentence  of  death.  Was  it  not 
natural,  then,  that  I,  who  bring  you  tidings  of  a  victory, 
should  have  the  heart  to  utter  a  prayer  for  mercy,  for 
which,  as  it  seems,  none  of  these  noble  and  proud  cavaliers 
could  summon  up  courage?  " 

"Ah!"  said  the  king,  evidently  relieved  and  fetching 
a  deep  breath,  "  then  you  knew  not  at  all  for  whom  and 
for  what  you  were  imploring  pardon  ?  " 

"  Yet! "  said  the  young  man,  and  his  bold  glance  ran 
with  an  expression  of  contempt  over  the  whole  assembly — 
"  yet,  I  saw  at  once  who  the  condemned  must  be,  for  I  saw 
this  young  maiden  forsaken  by  all  as  if  stricken  by  the 
plague,  standing  alone  in  the  midst  of  this  exalted  and 
brave  company.  And  you  well  know,  my  noble  king,  iluit 
at  court  one  recognizes  the  condemned  and  those  fallen 
into  disgrace  by  this,  that  every  one  flies  from  them,  and 
nobody  has  the  courage  to  touch  such  a  leper  even  with 
the  tip  of  his  finger]  " 

King  Henry  smiled.  "  Thomas  Seymour,  Earl  of  Sud- 
ley,  you  are  now,  as  ever,  imprudent  and  hasty,"  said  he. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  43 

"  You  beg  for  mercy  without  once  knowing  whether  she 
for  whom  you  beg  it  is  worthy  of  mercy." 

"  But  I  see  that  she  is  a  woman/'  said  the  intrepid 
young  earl.  "  And  a  woman  is  always  worthy  of  mercy, 
and  it  becomes  every  knight  to  come  forward  as  her  de- 
fender, were  it  but  to  pay  homage  to  her  sex,  so  fair  and 
so  frail,  and  yet  so  noble  and  mighty.  Therefore  I  beg 
mercy  for  this  young  maiden!  " 

Catharine  had  listened  to  the  young  earl  with  throb- 
bing heart  and  flushed  cheeks.  It  was  the  first  time  that 
she  had  seen  him,  and  yet  she  felt  for  him  a  warm  sym- 
pathy, an  almost  tender  anxiety. 

"  He  will  plunge  himself  into  ruin,"  murmured  she; 
"  he  will  not  save  Anne,  but  will  make  himself  unhappy. 
My  God,  my  God,  have  a  little  compassion  and  pity  on  my 
anguish! " 

She  now  fixed  her  anxious  gaze  on  the  king,  firmly  re- 
solved to  rush  to  the  help  of  the  earl,  who  had  so  nobly 
and  magnanimously  interested  himself  in  an  innocent 
woman,  should  the  wrath  of  her  husband  threaten  him 
also.  But,  to  her  surprise,  Henry's  face  was  perfectly  serene 
and  contented. 

Like  the  wild  beast,  that,  following  its  instinct,  seeks 
its  bloody  prey  only  so  long  as  it  is  hungry,  so  King  Henry 
felt  satiated  for  the  day.  Yonder  glared  the  fires  about 
the  stake,  at  which  four  heretics  were  burned;  there  stood 
the  scaffold  on  which  the  Countess  of  Somerset  had  just 
been  executed;  and  now,  within  this  hour,  he  had  already 
found  another  new  victim  for  death.  Moreover,  Thomas 
Seymour  had  always  been  his  favorite.  His  audacity,  his 
liveliness,  his  energy,  had  always  inspired  the  king  with  re- 
spect; and  then,  again,  he  so  much  resembled  his  sister, 
the  beautiful  Jane  Seymour,  Henry's  third  wife. 

"I  cannot  grant  you  this  favor,  Thomas,"  said  the 
king.  "  Justice  must  not  be  hindered  in  her  course,  and 
where  she  has  passed  sentence,  mercy  must  not  give  her  the 
lie;  and  it  was  the  justice  of  your  king  which  pronounced 


44  HENKY   VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

sentence  at  that  moment.  You  were  guilty,  therefore,  of  a 
double  wrong,  for  you  not  only  besought  mercy,  but  you 
also  brought  an  accusation  against  my  cavaliers.  Do  you 
really  believe  that,  were  this  maiden's  cause  a  just  one,  no 
knight  would  have  been  found  for  her?  " 

"  Yes,  I  really  believe  it,"  cried  the  earl,  with  a  laugh. 
"The  sun  of  your  favor. had  turned  away  from  this  poor 
girl,  and  in  such  a  case  your  courtiers  no  longer  see  the 
figure  wrapped  in  darkness." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  my  lord;  I  have  seen  it,"  suddenly 
said  another  voice,  and  a  second  cavalier  advanced  from  the 
anteroom  into  the  chamber.  He  approached  the  king,  and, 
as  he  bent  his  knee  before  him,  he  said,  in  a  loud,  steady 
voice:  "  Sire,  I  also  beg  mercy  for  Anne  Askew! " 

At  this  moment  was  heard  from  that  side  of  the  room 
where  the  ladies  stood,  a  low  cry,  and  the  pale,  affrighted 
face  of  Lady  Jane  Douglas  was  for  a  moment  raised  above 
the  heads  of  the  other  ladies.  No  one  noticed  it.  All  eyes 
were  directed  toward  the  group  in  the  middle  of  the  room; 
all  looked  with  eager  attention  upon  the  king  and  these 
two  young  men,  who  dared  protect  one  whom  he  had  sen- 
tenced. 

"  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey! "  exclaimed  the  king; 
and  now  an  expression  of  wrath  passed  over  his  counte- 
nance. "How!  you,  too,  dare  intercede  for  this  girl? 
You,  then,  grudge  Thomas  Seymour  the  pre-eminence  of 
being  the  most  discreet  man  at  my  court?  " 

"  I  will  not  allow  him,  sire,  to  think  that  he  is  the  brav- 
est," replied  the  young  man,  as  he  fixed  on  Thomas  Sey- 
mour a  look  of  haughty  defiance,  which  the  other  answered 
by  a  cold,  disdainful  smile. 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  "  I  will- 
ingly allow  you,  my  dear  Earl  of  Surrey,  to  tread  behind  me, 
at  your  convenience,  the  path,  the  safety  of  which  I  first 
tested  at  the  peril  of  my  life.  You  saw  that  I  had  not,  as 
yet,  lost  either  my  head  or  my  life  in  this  reckless  under- 
taking, and  that  has  given  you  courage  to  follow  my  ex- 


HENEY   Vm.    AND   HIS   COURT.  ±5 

ample.  That  is  a  new  proof  of  your  prudent  valor,  my  Hon- 
orable Earl  of  Surrey,  and  I  must  praise  you  for  it." 

A  hot  flush  suffused  the  noble  face  of  the  earl,  his 
eyes  shot  lightning,  and,  trembling  with  rage,  he  laid  his 
hand  on  his  sword.  "Praise  from  Thomas  Seymour  is 

"Silence!"  interposed  the  king,  imperatively.  "It 
must  not  be  said  that  two  of  the  noblest  cavaliers  of  my 
court  have  turned  the  day,  which  should  be  one  of  festivity 
to  all  of  you,  into  a  day  of  contention.  I  command  you, 
therefore,  to  be  reconciled.  Shake  hands,  my  lords,  and 
let  your  reconciliation  be  sincere.  I,  the  king  command  it! " 

The  young  men  gazed  at  each  other  with  looks  of  hatred 
and  smothered  rage,  and  their  eyes  spoke  the  insulting  and 
defiant  words  which  their  lips  durst  no  longer  utter.  The 
king  had  ordered,  and,  however  great  and  powerful  they 
might  be,  the  king  was  to  be  obeyed.  They,  therefore,  ex- 
tended their  hands  to  each  other,  and  muttered  a  few  low, 
unintelligible  words,  which  might  be,  perhaps,  a  mutual 
apology,  but  which  neither  of  them  understood. 

"  And  now,  sire,"  said  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  "  now  I  ven- 
ture to  reiterate  my  prayer.  Mercy,  your  majesty,  mercy 
for  Anne  Askew! " 

"  And  you,  Thomas  Seymour,  do  you  also  renew  your 
petition?  " 

"  No,  I  withdraw  it.  Earl  Surrey  protects  her;  I,  there- 
fore, retire,  for  without  doubt  she  is  a  criminal;  your 
majesty  says  so,  and,  therefore,  it  is  so.  It  would  ill  be- 
come a  Sevmour  to  protect  a  person  who  has  sinned  against 
the  king."" 

This  new  indirect  attack  on  Earl  Surrey  seemed  to  make 
on  all  present  a  deep  but  very  varied  impression.  Here, 
faces  were  seen  to  turn  pale,  and  there,  to  light  up  with  a 
malicious  smile;  here,  compressed  lips  muttered  words  of 
threatening,  there,  a  mouth  opened  to  express  approba- 
tion and  agreement. 

The  king's  brow  was  clouded  and  troubled;  the  arrow 
which  Earl  Sudley  had  shot  with  so  skilful  a  hand  had 


46  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

hit.  The  king,  ever  suspicious  and  distrustful,  felt  so  much 
the  more  disquieted  as  he  saw  that  the  greater  part  of  his 
cavaliers  evidently  reckoned  themselves  friends  of  Henry 
Howard,  and  that  the  number  of  Seymour's  adherents  was 
but  trifling. 

"  These  Howards  are  dangerous,  and  I  will  watch  them 
carefully,"  said  the  king  to  himself;  and  for  the  first  time 
his  eye  rested  with  a  dark  and  hostile  look  on  Henry  How- 
ard's noble  countenance. 

But  Thomas  Seymour,  who  wished  only  to  make  a 
thrust  at  his  old  enemy,  had  at  the  same  time  decided  the 
fate  of  poor  Anne  Askew.  It  was  now  almost  an  impossi- 
bility to  speak  in  her  behalf,  and  to  implore  pardon  for 
her  was  to  become  a  partaker  of  her  crime.  Thomas  Sey- 
mour had  abandoned  her,  because,  as  traitress  to  her  king, 
she  had  rendered  herself  unworthy  of  his  protection.  \Yh<> 
now  would  be  so  presumptuous  as  to  still  protect  the 
traitress? 

Henry  Howard  did  it;  he  reiterated  his  supplication  for 
Anne  Askew's  pardon.  But  the  king's  countenance  grew 
darker  and  darker,  and  the  courtiers  watched  with  dread 
the  coming  of  the  moment  when  his  wrath  would  dash  in 
pieces  the  poor  Earl  of  Surrey. 

In  the  row  of  ladies  also,  here  and  there,  a  pale  face  was 
visible,  and  many  a  beautiful  and  beaming  eye  was  dimmed 
with  tears  at  the  sight  of  this  gallant  and  handsome  cava- 
lier, who  was  hazarding  even  his  life  for  a  woman. 

"  He  is  lost! "  murmured  Lady  Jane  Douglas;  and, 
completely  crushed  and  lifeless,  she  leaned  for  a  moment 
against  the  wall.  But  she  soon  recovered  herself,  and  her 
eye  beamed  with  bold  resolution.  "  I  will  try  and  save 
him!  "  she  said  to  herself;  and,  with  firm  step,  she  advanced 
from  the  ladies'  ranks,  and  approached  the  king. 

A  murmur  of  applause  ran  through  the  company,  and 
all  faces  brightened  and  all  eyes  were  bent  approvingly  on 
Lady  Jane.  They  knew  that  she  was  the  queen's  friend, 
and  an  adherent  of  the  new  doctrine;  it  was,  therefore,  very 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  47 

marked  and  significant  when  she  supported  the  Earl  of 
Surrey  in  his  magnanimous  effort. 

Lady  Jane  bowed  her  beautiful  and  haughty  head  be- 
fore the  king,  and  said,  in  her  clear,  silvery  voice:  "Sire, 
in  the  name  of  all  the  women,  I  also  beseech  you  to  par- 
don Anne  Askew,  because  she  is  a  woman.  Lord  Surrey  has 
done  so  because  a  true  knight  can  never  be  false  to  him- 
self and  his  ever  high  and  sacred  obligation:  to  be  the  pro- 
tector of  those  who  are  helpless  and  in  peril  is  enough  for 
him.  A  real  gentleman  asks  not  whether  a  woman  is 
worthy  of  his  protection;  he  grants  it  to  her,  simply  be- 
cause she  is  a  woman,  and  needs  his  help.  And  while  I, 
therefore,  in  the  name  of  all  the  women,  thank  the  Earl  of 
Surrey  for  the  assistance  that  he  has  been  desirous  to  ren- 
der to  a  woman,  I  unite  my  prayer  with  his,  because  it  shall 
not  be  said  that  we  women  are  always  cowardly  and  timid, 
and  never  venture  to  hasten  to  the  help  of  the  distressed. 
I,  therefore,  ask  mercy,  sire,  mercy  for  Anne  Askew!  " 

"  And  I,"  said  the  queen,  as  she  again  approached  the 
king,  "  I  add  my  prayers  to  hers,  sire.  To-day  is  the  feast 
of  love,  my  festival,  sire !  To-day,  then,  let  love  and  mercy 
prevail." 

She  looked  at  the  king  with  so  charming  a  smile,  her 
eyes  had  an  expression  so  radiant  and  happy,  that  the  king 
could  not  withstand  her. 

He  was,  therefore,  in  the  depths  of  his  heart,  ready  to 
let  the  royal  clemency  prevail  for  this  time;  but  he  wanted 
a  pretext  for  this,  some  way  of  bringing  it  about.  He  had 
solemnly  vowed  to  pardon  no  heretic,  and  he  might  not 
break  his  word  merely  because  the  queen  prayed  for  mercy. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  he,  after  a  pause,  "  I  will  comply 
with  your  request.  I  will  pardon  Anne  Askew,  provided 
she  will  retract,  and  solemnly  abjure  all  that  she  has  said. 
Are  you  satisfied  with  that,  Catharine?  " 

"  I  am  satisfied,"  said  she,  sadly. 

"And  you,  Lady  Jane  Douglas,  and  Henry  Howard, 
Earl  of  Surrey?  " 


48  HENRY   VIII.   ASD   111S   COUiiT. 

"  We  are  satisfied." 

All  eyes  were  now  turned  again  upon  Anne  Askew, 
who,  although  every  one  was  occupied  by  her  concerns,  had 
been  entirely  overlooked  and  left  unnoticed. 

Nor  had  she  taken  any  more  notice  of  the  company  than 
they  of  her.  She  had  scarcely  observed  what  was  going  on 
about  her.  She  stood  leaning  against  the  open  door  leading 
to  the  balcony,  and  gazed  at  the  flaming  horizon.  Her  soul 
was  with  those  pious  martyrs,  for  whom  she  was  sending 
up  her  heart-felt  prayers  to  God,  and  whom  she,  in  her 
feverish  exaltation,  envied  their  death  of  torture.  Entirely 
borne  away  from  the  present,  she  had  heard  neither  the 
petitions  of  those  who  protected  her,  nor  the  king's  reply. 

A  hand  laid  upon  her  shoulder  roused  her  from  her 
reverie. 

It  was  Catharine,  the  young  queen,  who  stood  near  her. 

"  Anne  Askew,"  said  she,  in  a  hurried  whisper,  "  if 
your  life  is  dear  to  you,  comply  with  the  king's  demand." 

She  seized  the  young  girl's  hand,  and  led  her  to  the 
king. 

"  Sire,"  said  she,  in  a  full  voice,  "  forgive  the  exalted 
and  impassioned  agony  of  a  poor  girl,  who  has  now,  for  the 
first  time,  been  witness  of  an  execution,  and  whose  mind 
has  been  so  much  impressed  by  it  that  she  is  scarcely  con- 
scious of  the  mad  and  criminal  words  that  she  has  uttered 
before  you!  Pardon  her,  then,  your  majesty,  for  she  is 
prepared  cheerfully  to  retract." 

A  cry  of  amazement  burst  from  Anne's  lips,  and  her 
eyes  flashed  with  anger,  as  she  dashed  the  queen's  hand 
away  from  her. 

"  I  retract!  "  exclaimed  she,  with  a  contemptuous  smile. 
"Never,  my  lady,  never!  No!  as  sure  as  I  hope  for  God 
to  be  gracious  to  me  in  my  last  hour,  I  retract  not!  It  is 
true,  it  was  agony  and  horror  that  made  me  speak;  but  what 
I  have  spoken  is  ye t,.  nevertheless,  the  truth.  Horror  caused 
me  to  speak,  and  forced  me  to  show  my  soul  undisguised. 
No,  I  retract  not!  I  tell  you,  they  who  have  been  executed 


HEXKY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  4.9 

over  yonder  are  holy  martyrs,  who  have  ascended  to  God, 
there  to  enter  an  accusation  against  their  royal  hangman. 
Ay,  they  are  holy,  for  eternal  truth  had  illumined  their 
souls,  and  it  beamed  about  their  faces  bright  as  the  flames 
of  the  fagots  into  which  the  murderous  hand  of  an  un- 
righteous judge  had  cast  them.  Ah,  I  must  retract!  I, 
forsooth,  am  to  do  as  did  Shaxton,  the  miserable  and  un- 
faithful servant  of  his  God,  who,  from  fear  of  earthly  death, 
denied  the  eternal  truth,  and  in  blaspheming  pusillanimity 
perjured  himself  concerning  the  holy  doctrine.*  King 
Henry,  I  say  unto  you,  beware  .of  dissemblers  and  per- 
jurers; beware  of  your  own  haughty  and  arrogant  thoughts. 
The  blood  of  martyrs  cries  to  Heaven  against  you,  and  the 
time  will  come  when  God  will  be  as  merciless  to  you  as  you 
have  been  to  the  noblest  of  your  subjects!  You  deliver 
them  over  to  the  murderous  flames,  because  they  will  not 
believe  what  the  priests  of  Baal  preach;  because  they  will 
not  believe  in  the  real  transubstantiation  of  the  chalice; 
because  they  deny  that  the  natural  body  of  Christ  is,  after 
the  sacrament,  contained  in  the  sacrament,  no  matter 
whether  the  priest  be  a  good  or  a  bad  man.f  You  give 
them  over  to  the  executioner,  because  they  serve  the  truth, 
and  are  faithful  followers  of  the  Lord  their  God!  " 

"  And  you  share  the  views  of  these  people  whom  you 
call  martyrs?  "  asked  the  king,  as  Anne  Askew  now  paused 
for  a  moment  and  struggled  for  breath. 

"Yes,  I  share  them!" 

"  You  deny,  then,  the  truth  of  the  six  articles?  " 

"  I  deny  them! " 

"  You  do  not  see  in  me  the  head  of  the  Church?  " 

"  God  only  is  Head  and  Lord  of  the  Church! " 

A  pause  followed — a  fearful,  awful  pause. 

Every  one  felt  that  for  this  poor  young  girl  there  was 
no  hope,  no  possible  escape;  that  her  doom  was  irrevocably 
sealed. 

There  was  a  smile  on  the  king's  countenance. 

*  Burnet,  vol.  i,  p.  341.  f  Ibid. 


50  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS   COURT. 

The  courtiers  knew  that  smile,  and  feared  it  yet  more 
than  the  king's  raging  wrath. 

When  the  king  thus  smiled,  he  had  taken  his  resolve. 
Then  there  was  with  him  no  possible  vacillation  or  hesita- 
tion, but  the  sentence  of  death  was  resolved  on,  and  his 
bloodthirsty  soul  rejoiced  over  a  new  victim. 

"  My  Lord  Bishop  of  Winchester,"  said  the  king,  at 
length,  "  come  hither." 

Gardiner  drew  near  and  placed  himself  by  Anne  Askew, 
who  gazed  at  him  with  angry,  contemptuous  looks. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  law  I  command  you  to  arrest  this 
heretic,  and  hand  her  over  to  the  spiritual  court,"  con- 
tinued the  king.  "  She  is  damned  and  lost.  She  shall  be 
punished  as  she  deserves!  " 

Gardiner  laid  his  hand  on  Anne  Askew's  shoulder.  "  In 
the  name  of  the  law  of  God,  I  arrest  you! "  said  he,  sol- 
emnly. 

Not  a  word  more  was  spoken.  The  lord  chief  justice 
had  silently  followed  a  sign  from  Gardiner,  and  touching 
Anne  Askew  with  his  staff,  ordered  the  soldiers  to  con- 
duct her  thence. 

With  a  smile,  Anne  Askew  offered  them  her  hand,  and 
surrounded  by  the  soldiers  and  followed  by  the  Bishop  of 
Winchester  and  the  lord  chief  justice,  walked  erect  and 
proudly  out  of  the  room. 

The  courtiers  had  divided  and  opened  a  passage  for 
Anne  and  her  attendants.  Now  their  ranks  closed  again, 
as  the  sea  closes  and  flows  calmly  on  when  it  has  just  re- 
ceived a  corpse.  To  them  all  Anne  Askew  was  already  a 
corpse,  as  one  buried.  The  waves  had  swept  over  her  and 
all  was  again  serene  and  bright. 

The  king  extended  his  hand  to  his  young  wife,  and, 
bending  down,  whispered  in  her  ear  a  few  words,  which 
nobody  understood,  but  which  made  the  young  queen 
tremble  and  blush. 

The  king,  who  observed  this,  laughed  and  impressed  a 
kiss  on  her  forehead.  Then  he  turned  to  his  court: 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  5J 

"  Now,  good-night,  my  lords  and  gentlemen,"  said  he, 
with  a  gracious  inclination  of  the  head.  "  The  feast  is 
at  an  end,  and  we  need  rest." 

"  Forget  not  the  Princess  Elizabeth,"  whispered  Arch- 
bishop Cranmer,  as  he  took  leave  of  Catharine,  and  pressed 
to  his  lips  her  proffered  hand. 

"I  will  not  forget  her,"  murmured  Catharine,  and, 
with  throbbing  heart  and  trembling  with  inward  dread,  she 
saw  them  all  retire,  and  leave  her  alone  with  the  king. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   INTERCESSION. 

now,  Kate,"  said  the  king,  when  all  had  with- 
drawn, and  he  was  again  alone  with  her,  "  now  let  us  for- 
get everything,  save  that  we  love  each  other." 

He  embraced  her  and  with  ardor  pressed  her  to  his 
breast.  Wearied  to  death,  she  bowed  her  head  on  his 
shoulder  and  lay  there  like  a  shattered  rose,  completely 
broken,  completely  passive. 

"You  give  me  no  kiss,  Kate?"  said  Henry,  with  a 
smile.  "  Are  you  then  yet  angry  with  me  that  I  did  not 
comply  with  your  first  request?  But  what  would  you  have 
me  do,  child?  How,  indeed,  shall  I  keep  the  crimson  of 
my  royal  mantle  always  fresh  and  bright,  unless  I  con- 
tinually dye  it  anew  in  the  blood  of  criminals?  Only  he 
who  punishes  and  destroys  is  truly  a  king,  and  trembling 
mankind  will  acknowledge  him  as  such.  The  tender- 
hearted and  gracious  king  it  despises,  and  his  pitiful  weak- 
ness it  laughs  to  scorn.  Bah!  Humanity  is  such  a 
wretched,  miserable  thing,  that  it  only  respects  and  ac- 
knowledges him  who  makes  it  tremble.  And  people  are 
such  contemptible,  foolish  children,  that  they  have  re- 


52  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

spect  only  for  him  who  makes  them  feel  the  lash  daily,  and 
every  now  and  then  whips  a  few  of  them  to  death.  Look 
at  me,  Kate:  where  is  there  a  king  who  has  reigned  longer 
and  more  happily  than  I?  whom  the  people  love  more  and 
obey  better  than  me?  This  arises  from  the  fact  that  I 
have  already  signed  more  than  two  hundred  death-war- 
rants,* and  because  every  one  believes  that,  if  he  does  not 
obey  me,  I  will  without  delay  send  his  head  after  the 
others! " 

"  Oh,  you  say  you  love  me,"  murmured  Catharine, 
"and  you  speak  only  of  blood  and  death  while  you  are 
with  me." 

The  king  laughed.  "  You  are  right,  Kate,"  said  he, 
"  and  yet,  believe  me,  there  are  other  thoughts  slumber- 
ing in  the  depths  of  my  heart,  and  could  you  look  down 
into  it,  you  would  not  accuse  me  of  coldness  and  unkind- 
ness.  I  love  you  truly,  my  dear,  virgin  bride,  and,  to 
prove  it,  you  shall  now  ask  a  favor  of  me.  Yes,  Kate, 
make  me  a  request,  and,  whatever  it  may  be,  I  pledge  you 
my  royal  word,  it  shall  be  granted  you.  Now,  Kate,  think, 
what  will  please  yon?  Will  you  have  brilliants,  or  a  castle 
by  the  sea,  or,  perhaps,  a  yacht?  Would  you  like  fine 
horses,  or  it  may  be  some  one  has  offended  you,  and  yon 
would  like  his  head?  If  so,  tell  me,  Kate,  and  you  shall 
have  his  head;  a  wink  from  me,  and  it  drops  at  your 
feet.  For  I  am  almighty  and  all-powerful,  and  no  one  is 
so  innocent  and  pure,  that  my  will  cannot  find  in  him 
a  crime  which  will  cost  him  his  life.  Speak,  then, 
Kate;  what  would  you  hnve?  What  will  gladden  your 
heart?" 

Catharine  smiled  in  ppite  of  her  secret  fear  and  horror. 

"  Sire,"  said  she,  "  you  have  given  me  so  many  bril- 
liants, that  I  can.  shine  and  glitter  with  them,  as  night 
does  with  her  stars.  If  you  give  me  a  castle  by  the  sea, 
that  is,  at  the  same  time,  banishing  me  from  Whitehall 
and  your  presence;  I  wish,  therefore,  for  no  castle  of 

•  Tytler,  p.  428.    Leti,  vol.  i,  p.  187. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  53 

my  own.  I  wish  only  to  dwell  with  you  in  your  castles, 
and  my  king's  abode  shall  be  my  only  residence." 

"  Beautifully  and  wisely  spoken/'  said  the  king;  "  I 
will  remember  these  words  if  ever  your  enemies  endeavor 
to  send  you  to  a  dwelling  and  a  castle  other  than  that 
which  your  king  occupies.  The  Tower  is  also  a  castle, 
Kate,  but  I  give  you  my  royal  word  you  shall  never  oc- 
cupy that  castle.  You  want  no  treasures  and  no  castles? 
It  is,  then,  somebody's  head  that  you  demand  of  me?" 

"  Yes,  sire,  it  is  the  head  of  some  one !  " 

"  Ah,  I  guessed  it,  then,"  said  the  king  with  a  laugh. 
"  Now  speak,  my  little  bloodthirsty  queen,  whose  head 
will  you  have?  Who  shall  be  brought  to  the  block?  " 

"  Sire,  it  is  true  I  ask  you  for  the  head  of  a  person," 
said  Catharine,  in  a  tender,  earnest  tone,  "  but  I  wish  not 
that  head  to  fall,  but  to  be  lifted  up.  I  beg  you  for  a 
human  life — not  to  destroy  it,  but,  on  the  contrary,  to 
adorn  it  with  happiness  and  joy.  I  wish  to  drag  no  one  to 
prison,  but  to  restore  to  one,  dearly  beloved,  the  freedom, 
happiness,  and  splendid  position  which  belong  to  her. 
Sire,  you  have  permitted  me  to  ask  a  favor.  Now,  then, 
I  beg  you  to  call  the  Princess  Elizabeth  to  court.  Let 
her  reside  with  us  at  Whitehall.  Allow  her  to  be  ever 
near  me,  and  share  my  happiness  and  glory.  Sire,  only 
yesterday  the  Princess  Elizabeth  was  far  above  me  in  rank 
and  position,  but  since  your  all-powerful  might  and  grace 
have  to-day  elevated  me  above  all  other  women,  I  may 
now  love  the  Princess  Elizabeth  as  my  sister  and  dearest 
friend.  Grant  me  this,  my  king!  Let  Elizabeth  come  to 
us  at  Whitehall,  and  enjoy  at  our  court  the  honor  which  is 
her  due."  * 

The  king  did  not  reply  immediately;  but  in  his  quiet 
and  smiling  air  one  could  read  that  his  young  consort's 
request  had  not  angered  him.  Something  like  an  emo- 
tion flitted  across  his  face,  and  his  eyes  were  for  a  moment 
dimmed  with  tears. 

*  Leti,  voL  i,  p.  147.    Tytler,  p.  410. 


54  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

Perhaps  just  then  a  pale,  soul-harrowing  phantom 
passed  before  his  mind,  and  a  glance  at  the  past  showed 
him  the  beautiful  and  unfortunate  mother  *  of  Elizabeth, 
whom  he  had  sentenced  to  a  cruel  death  at  the  hands  of 
the  public  executioner,  and  whose  last  word  nevertheless 
was  a  blessing  and  a  message  of  love  for  him. 

He  passionately  seized  Catharine's  hand  and  pressed  it 
to  his  lips.  "'  I  thank  you!  You  are  unselfish  and  gen- 
erous. That  is  a  very  rare  quality,  and  I  shall  always 
highly  esteem  you  for  it.  But  you  are  also  brave  and 
courageous,  for  you  have  dared  what  nobody  before  you 
has  dared;  you  have  twice  on  the  same  evening  inter- 
ceded for  one  condemned  and  one  fallen  into  disgrace. 
The  fortunate,  and  those  favored  by  me,  have  always  had 
many  friends,  but  I  have  never  yet  seen  that  the  unfor- 
tunate and  the  exiled  have  also  found  friends.  You  are 
different  from  these  miserable,  cringing  courtiers;  differ- 
ent from  this  deceitful  and  trembling  crowd,  that  with 
chattering  teeth  fall  down  and  worship  me  as  their  god 
and  lord;  different  from  these  pitiful,  good-for-nothing 
mortals,  who  call  themselves  my  people,  and  who  allow 
me  to  yoke  them  up,  because  they  are  like  the  ox,  which 
is  obedient  and  serviceable,  only  because  he  is  so  stupid  as 
not  to  know  his  own  might  and  strength.  Ah,  believe 
me,  Kate,  I  would  be  a  milder  and  more  merciful  king, 
if  the  people  were  not  such  an  utterly  stupid  and  con- 
temptible thing;  a  dog,  which  is  so  much  the  more  sub- 
missive and  gentle  the  more  you  maltreat  him.  You, 
Kate,  you  are  different,  and  I  am  glad  of  it.  You  know, 
I  have  forever  banished  Elizabeth  from  my  court  and  from 
my  heart,  and  still  you  intercede  for  her.  That  is  noble 
of  you,  and  I  love  you  for  it,  and  grant  you  your  request. 
And  that  you  may  see  how  I  love  and  trust  you,  I  will 
now  reveal  to  you  a  secret:  I  have  long  since  wished  to 
have  Elizabeth  with  me,  but  I  was  ashamed,  even  to  my- 
self, of  this  weakness.  I  have  long  yearned  once  again 

*  Anue  Boleyn, 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  55 

to  look  into  my  daughter's  large  deep  eyes,  to  be  a  kind 
and  tender  father  to  her,  and  make  some  amends  to  her 
for  the  wrong  I  perhaps  may  have  done  to  her  mother. 
For  sometimes,  in  sleepless  nights,  Anne's  beautiful  face 
comes  up  before  me  and  gazes  at  me  with  mournful,  mild 
look,  and  my  whole  heart  shudders  before  it.  But  I  could 
not  confess  this  to  anybody,  for  then  they  might  say  that  I 
repented  what  I  had  done.  A  king  must  be  infallible,  like 
God  himself,  and  never,  through  regret  or  desire  to  com- 
pensate, confess  that  he  is  a  weak,  erring  mortal,  like 
others.  You  see  why  I  repressed  my  longing  and  parental 
tenderness,  which  was  suspected  by  no  one,  and  appeared 
to  be  a  heartless  father,  because  nobody  would  help  me 
and  make  it  easy  for  me  to  be  a  tender  father.  Ah,  these 
courtiers!  They  are  so  stupid,  that  they  can  understand 
only  just  what  is  echoed  in  our  words;  but  what  our  heart 
says,  and  longs  for,  of  that  they  know  nothing.  But  you 
know,  Kate;  you  are  an  acute  woman,  and  a  high-minded 
one  besides.  Come,  Kate,  a  thankful  father  gives  you 
this  kiss,  and  this,  ay,  this,  your  husband  gives  you,  my 
beautiful,  charming  queen." 


CHAPTER   VH. 

HENRY   THE   EIGHTH   AND   HIS   WIVES. 

THE  calm  of  night  had  now  succeeded  to  the  tempest 
of  the  day,  and  after  so  much  bustle,  festivity,  and  rejoic- 
ing, deep  quiet  now  reigned  in  the  palace  of  "Whitehall, 
and  throughout  London.  The  happy  subjects  of  King 
Henry  might,  without  danger,  remain  for  a  few  hours  at 
least  in  their  houses,  and  behind  closed  shutters  and  bolt- 
ed doors,  either  slumber  and  dream,  or  give  themselves 
to  their  devotional  exercises,  on  account  of  which  they  had 


56  HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

that  day,  perhaps,  been  denounced  as  malefactors.  They 
might,  for  a  few  hours,  resign  themselves  to  the  sweet, 
blissful  dream  of  being  freemen  untrammelled  in  belief 
and  thought.  For  King  Henry  slept,  and  likewise  Gardi- 
ner and  the  lord  chancellor  had  closed  their  watchful, 
prying,  devout,  murderous  eyes,  and  reposed  awhile  from 
the  Christian  employment  of  ferreting  out  heretics. 

And  like  the  king,  the  entire  households  of  both  their 
majesties  were  also  asleep  and  resting  from  the  festivities 
of  the  royal  wedding-day,  which,  in  pomp  and  splendor,  by 
far  surpassed  the  five  preceding  marriages. 

It  appeared,  however,  as  though  not  all  the  court  offi- 
cials were  taking  rest,  and  following  the  example  of  the 
king.  For  in  a  chamber,  not  far  from  that  of  the  royal 
pair,  one  could  perceive,  from  the  bright  beams  streaming 
from  the  windows,  in  spite  of  the  heavy  damask  curtains 
which  veiled  them,  that  the  lights  were  not  yet  extin- 
guished; and  he  who  looked  more  closely  would  have  ob- 
served that  now  and  then  a  human  shadow  was  portrayed 
upon  the  curtain. 

So  the  occupant  of  this  chamber  had  not  yet  gone  to 
rest,  and  harassing  must  have  been  the  thoughts  which 
cause  him  to  move  so  restlessly  to  and  fro. 

This  chamber  was  occupied  by  Lady  Jane  Douglas, 
first  maid  of  honor  to  the  queen.  The  powerful  influence 
of  Gardiner,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  had  seconded  Cath- 
arine's wish  to  have  near  her  the  dear  friend  of  her  youth, 
and,  without  suspecting  it,  the  queen  had  given  a  help- 
ing hand  to  bring  nearer  to  their  accomplishment  the 
schemes  which  the  hypocritical  Gardiner  was  directing 
against  her. 

For  Catharine  knew  not  what  changes  had  taken  place 
in  the  character  of  her  friend  in  the  four  years  in  which 
she  had  not  seen  her.  She  did  not  suspect  how  fatal  her 
sojourn  in  the  strongly  Romish  city  of  Dublin  had  been  to 
the  easily  impressible  mind  of  her  early  playmate,  and 
how  much  it  had  transformed  her  whole  being. 


HENBY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COUET.  57 

Lady  Jane,  once  so  sprightly  and  gay,  had  become  a 
bigoted  Romanist,  who,  with  fanatical  zeal,  believed  that 
she  was  serving  God  when  she  served  the  Church,  and  paid 
unreserved  obedience  to  her  priests. 

Lady  Jane  Douglas  had  therefore — thanks  to  her  fa- 
naticism and  the  teachings  of  the  priests — become  a  com- 
plete dissembler.  She  could  smile,  while  in  her  heart  she 
secretly  brooded  over  hatred  and  revenge.  She  could  kiss 
the  lips  of  those  whose  destruction  she  had  perhaps  just 
sworn.  She  could  preserve  a  harmless,  innocent  air,  while 
she  observed  everything,  and  took  notice  of  every  breath, 
every  smile,  every  movement  of  the  eyelashes. 

Hence  it  was  very  important  for  Gardiner,  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  to  bring  his  "  friend  "  of  the  queen  to  court, 
and  make  of  this  disciple  of  Loyola  an  ally  and  friend. 

Lady  Jane  Douglas  was  alone;  and,  pacing  up  and 
down  her  room,  she  thought  over  the  events  of  the  day. 

Now,  that  no  one  was  observing  her,  she  had  laid 
aside  that  gentle,  serious  mien,  which  one  was  wont  to 
see  about  her  at  other  times;  her  countenance  betrayed  in 
rapid  changes  all  the  various  sad  and  cheerful,  tempestu- 
ous and  tender  feelings  which  agitated  her. 

She  who  had  hitherto  had  only  one  aim  before  her  eyes, 
to  serve  the  Church,  and  to  consecrate  her  whole  life  to 
this  service;  she  whose  heart  had  been  hitherto  open  only 
to  ambition  and  devotion,  she  felt  to-day  wholly  new  and 
never-susupected  feelings  springing  up  within  her.  A 
new  thought  had  entered  into  her  life,  the  woman  was 
awakened  in  her,  and  beat  violently  at  that  heart  which 
devotion  had  overlaid  with  a  hard  coating. 

She  had  tried  to  collect  herself  in  prayer,  and  to  fill  her 
soul  so  entirely  with  the  idea  of  God  and  her  Church,  that 
no  earthly  thought  or  desire  could  find  place  therein. 
But  ever  and  again  arose  before  her  mind's  eye  the  noble 
countenance  of  Henry  Howard,  ever  and  again  she  fancied 
that  she  heard  his  earnest,  melodious  voice,  which  made 

her  heart  shake  and  tremble  like  a  magical  incantation. 
5 


HE.Mjy    VI  It.    AXI)    HIS    COURT. 

She  had  at  first  struggled  against  these  sweet  fancies, 
which  forced  upon  her  such  strange  and  undreamed-of 
thoughts;  but  at  length  the  woman  in  her  got  the  bettor 
of  the  fanatical  Romanist*  and,  dropping  into  a  seat,  she 
surrendered  herself  to  her  dreams  and  fancies. 

"  Has  he  recognized  me? "  asked  she  of  herself. 
"  Does  he  still  remember  that  a  year  ago  we  saw  each 
other  daily  at  the  king's  court  in  Dublin?  " 

"  But  no,"  added  she  mournfully,  "  he  knows  nothing 
of  it.  He  had  then  eyes  and  sense  only  for  his  young  wife. 
Ah,  and  she  was  beautiful  and  lovely  as  one  of  the  Graces. 
But  I,  am  not  I  also  beautiful?  and  have  not  the  noblest 
cavaliers  paid  me  homage,  and  sighed  for  me  in  unavailing 
love?  How  comes  it,  then,  that  where  I  would  please, 
there  I  am  always  overlooked?  How  comes  it,  that  the 
only  two  men,  for  whose  notice  I  ever  cared,  have  never 
shown  any  preference  for  me?  I  felt  that  I  loved  Henry 
Howard,  but  this  love  was  a  sin,  for  the  Earl  of  Surrey 
was  married.  I  therefore  tore  my  heart  from  him  by  vio- 
lence, and  gave  it  to  God,  because  the  only  man  whom  I 
could  love  did  not  return  my  affection.  But  even  God 
and  devotion  are  not  able  to  entirely  fill  a  woman's  heart. 
In  my  breast  there  was  still  room  for  ambition;  and  since 
I  could  not  be  a  happy  wife,  I  would  at  least  be  a  powerful 
queen.  Oh,  everything  was  so  well  devised,  so  nicely 
arranged!  Gardiner  had  already  spoken  of  me  to  the 
king,  and  inclined  him  to  his  plan;  and  while  I  was  has- 
tening at  his  call  from  Dublin  hither,  this  little  Cath- 
arine Parr  comes  between  and  snatches  him  from  me,  and 
overturns  all  our  schemes.  I  will  never  forgive  her.  I 
will  find  a  way  to  revenge  myself.  I  will  force  her  to  leave 
this  place,  which  telongs  to  me,  and  if  there  is  no  other 
way  for  it,  she  must  go  the  way  of  the  scaffold,  as  did 
Catharine  Howard.  I  will  be  Queen  of  England,  I 
will " 

She  suddenly  interrupted  her  soliloquy,  nnd  listened. 
She  thought  she  heard  a  slight  knock  at  the  door. 


HEMIY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  59 

She  was  not  mistaken;  this  knock  was  uo\v  repeated, 
and  indeed  with  a  peculiar,  significant  stroke. 

"  It  is  my  father! "  said  Lady  Jane,  and,  as  she  re- 
sumed again  her  grave  and  quiet  air,  she  proceeded  to 
open  the  door. 

"Ah,  you  expected  me,  then?"  said  Lord  Archibald 
Douglas,  kissing  his  daughter's  forehead. 

"  Yes,  I  expected  you,  my  father,"  replied  Lady  Jane 
with  a  smile.  "  I  knew  that  you  would  come  to  com- 
municate to  me  your  experiences  and  observations  during 
the  day,  and  to  give  me  directions  for  the  future." 

The  earl  seated  himself  on  the  ottoman,  and  drew  his 
daughter  down  by  him. 

"  No  one  can  overhear  us,  can  they?  " 

"  Nobody,  my  father!  My  women  are  sleeping  in  the 
fourth  chamber  from  here,  and  I  have  myself  fastened  the 
intervening  doors.  The  anteroom  through  which  you 
came  is,  as  you  know,  entirely  empty,  and  nobody  can  con- 
ceal himself  there.  It  remains,  then,  only  to  fasten  the 
door  leading  thence  into  the  corridor,  in  order  to  be  secure 
from  interruption." 

She  hastened  into  the  anteroom  to  fasten  the  door. 

"  Now,  my  father,  we  are  secure  from  listeners,"  said 
she,  as  she  returned  and  resumed  her  place  on  the  otto- 
man. 

"And  the  walls,  my  child?  know  you  whether  or  no 
the  walls  are  safe?  You  look  at  me  with  an  expression  of 
doubt  and  surprise!  My  God,  what  a  harmless  and  inno- 
cent little  maiden  you  still  are !  Have  I  not  constantly  re- 
iterated the  great  and  wise  lesson,  '  Doubt  everything  and 
mistrust  everything,  even  what  you  see.'  He  Avho  will 
make  his  fortune  at  court,  must  first  of  all  mistrust  every- 
body, and  consider  everybody  his  enemy,  whom  he  is  to 
flatter,  because  he  can  do  him  harm,  and  whom  he  is  to 
hug  and  kiss,  until  in  some  happy  embrace  he  can  either 
plunge  a  dagger  into  his  breast  wholly  unobserved,  or  pour 
poison  into  his  mouth.  Trust  neither  men  nor  wall^, 


GO  UK  Ml  Y-    V11I.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

Jane,  for  I  tell  you,  however  smooth  and  innocent  both 
may  appear,  still  there  may  be  found  an  ambuscade  behind 
the  smooth  exterior.  But  I  will  for  the  present  believe 
that  these  walls  are  innocent,  and  conceal  no  listeners.  I 
will  believe  it,  because  I  know  this  room.  Those  were  fine 
and  charming  days  in  which  I  became  acquainted  with  it. 
Then  I  was  yet  young  and  handsome,  and  King  Henry's 
sister  was  not  yet  married  to  the  King  of  Scotland,  and 
we  loved  each  other  so  dearly.  Ah,  I  could  relate  to  you 
wonderful  stories  of  those  happy  days.  I  could " 

"  But,  my  dear  father,"  interrupted  Lady  Jane,  secretly 
trembling  at  the  terrible  prospect  of  being  forced  to  lis- 
ten yet  again  to  the  story  of  his  youthful  love,  which  she 
had  already  heard  times  without  number,  "  but,  my  dear 
father,  doubtless  you  have  not  come  hither  so  late  at  night 
in  order  to  relate  to  me  what  I — forgive  me,  my  lord — what 
I  long  since  knew.  You  will  rather  communicate  to  me 
what  your  keen  and  unerring  glance  has  discovered  here." 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Lord  Douglas,  sadly.  "  I  now  some- 
times  become  loquacious — a  sure  sign  that  I  am  growing 
old.  I  have,  by  no  means,  come  here  to  speak  of  the  past, 
but  of  the  present.  Let  us,  then,  speak  of  it.  Ah,  I  have 
to-day  perceived  much,  seen  much,  observed  much,  and 
the  result  of  my  observations  is,  you  will  be  King  Henry's 
seventh  wife." 

"Impossible,  my  lord!"  exclaimed  Lady  Jane,  whose 
countenance,  in  spite  of  her  will,  assumed  an  expression 
of  delight. 

Her  father  remarked  it.  "  My  child,"  said  he,  "  I  ob- 
serve that  you  have  not  yet  your  features  entirely  umliT 
your  control.  You  aimed  just  now,  for  example,  to  play 
the  coy  and  humble,  and  yet  your  face  had  the  expression 
of  proud  satisfaction.  But  this  by  the  way!  The  princi- 
pal tiling  is,  you  will  be  King  Henry's  seventh  wife!  But 
in  order  to  become  so,  there  is  need  for  great  heedfuhx •--. 
a  complete  knowledge  of  present  relations,  constant  ob- 
servation of  all  persons,  impenetrable  dissimulation,  and 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  <jl 

lastly,  above  all  things,  a  very  intimate  and  profound 
knowledge  of  the  king,  of  the  history  of  his  reign,  and  of 
his  character.  Do  you  possess  this  knowledge?  Know  you 
what  it  is  to  wish  to  become  King  Henry's  seventh  wife, 
and  how  you  must  begin  in  order  to  attain  this?  Have 
you  studied  Henry's  character?  " 

"  A  little,  perhaps,  but  certainly  not  sufficiently.  For, 
as  you  know,  my  lord,  worldly  matters  have  lain  upon  my 
heart  less  than  the  holy  Church,  to  whose  service  I  have 
consecrated  myself,  and  to  which  I  would  have  presented 
my  whole  being,  my  whole  soul,  my  whole  heart,  as  a  sacri- 
fice, had  not  you  yourself  determined  otherwise  concerning 
me.  Ah,  my  father,  had  I  been  allowed  to  follow  my  in- 
clination, I  would  have  retired  into  a  convent  in  Scotland 
in  order  to  spend  my  life  in  quiet  contemplation  and  piou? 
penances,  and  close  my  soul  and  ear  to  every  profane 
sound.  But  my  wishes  have  not  been  regarded;  and,  by 
the  mouth  of  His  venerable  and  holy  priests,  God  has  com- 
manded me  to  remain  in  the  world,  and  take  upon  myself 
the  yoke  of  greatness  and  regal  splendor.  If  I  then  strug- 
gle and  strive  to  become  queen,  this  is  done,  not  because 
the  vain  pomp  and  glory  allure  me,  but  solely  because 
through  me  the  Church,  out  of  which  is  no  salvation,  may 
find  a  fulcrum  to  operate  on  this  weak  and  fickle  king, 
and  because  I  am  to  bring  him  back  again  to  the  only  true 
faith." 

"  Very  well  played! "  cried  her  father,  who  had  stared 
her  steadily  in  the  face  while  she  was  speaking.  "  On  my 
word,  very  well  pla}'ed.  Everything  was  in  perfect  har- 
mony, the  gesticulation,  the  play  of  the  eyes,  and  the 
voice.  My  daughter,  I  withdraw  my  censure.  You  have 
perfect  control  over  yourself.  But  let  us  speak  of  King 
Henry.  We  will  now  subject  him  to  a.  thorough  analysis, 
and  no  fibre  of  his  heart,  no  atom  of  his  brain  shall  re- 
main unnoticed  by  us.  We  will  observe  him  in  his  domes- 
tic, his  political,  and  his  religious  life,  and  get  a  perfectly 
clear  view  of  every  peculiarity  of  his  character,  in  order 


#2  HENRY   VITt.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

that  we  may  deal  with  him  accordingly.  Let  us,  then, 
speak  first  of  his  wives.  Their  lives  and  deaths  afford 
you  excellent  finger-posts;  for  I  do  not  deny  that  it  is 
an  extremely  difficult  and  dangerous  undertaking  to  be 
Henry's  consort.  There  is  needed  for  it  much  personal 
courage  and  very  great  self-control.  Know  you  which, 
of  all  his  wives,  possessed  these  in  the  highest  degree?  It 
was  his  first  consort,  Catharine  of  Aragon!  By  Heaven, 
she  was  a  sensible  woman,  and  born  a  queen!  Henry,  ava- 
ricious as  he  was,  would  gladly  have  given  the  best  jewel 
in  his  crown,  if  he  could  have  detected  but  a  shadow,  the 
slightest  trace  of  unfaithfulness  in  her.  But  there  was 
absolutely  no  means  of  sending  this  woman  to  the  scaffold, 
and  at  that  time  he  was  as  yet  too  cowardly  and  too  virtu- 
ous to  put  her  out  of  the  way  by  poison.  He,  therefore, 
endured  her  long,  until  she  was  an  old  woman  with  gray 
hairs,  and  disagreeable  for  his  eyes  to  look  upon.  So  after 
he  had  been  married  to  her  seventeen  years,  the  good, 
pious  king  was  all  at  once  seized  with  a  conscientious 
scruple,  and  because  he  had  read  in  the  Bible, '  Thou  shalt 
not  marry  thy  sister,'  dreadful  pangs  of  conscience  came 
upon  the  noble  and  crafty  monarch.  He  fell  upon  his 
knees  and  beat  his  breast,  and  cried:  '  I  have  committed  a 
great  sin;  for  I  have  married  my  brother's  wife,  and  conse- 
quently my  sister.  But  I  will  make  amends  for  it.  I  will 
dissolve  this  adulterous  marriage!' — Do  you  know,  child, 
why  he  would  dissolve  it?  " 

"Because  he  loved  Anne  Boleyn!"  said  Jane,  with  a 
smile. 

"  Perfectly  correct!  Catharine  had  grown  old,  and 
Henry  was  still  a  young  man,  and  his  blood  shot  through 
his  veins  like  streams  of  fire.  But  he  was  yet  somewhat 
virtuous  and  timid,  and  the  main  peculiarity  of  his  charac- 
ter was  as  yet  undeveloped.  He  was  not  yet  bloodthirstt/, 
that  is  to  say,  he  had  not  yet  licked  blood.  But  you  will 
see  how  with  each  new  queen  his  desire  for  blood  increased, 
till  at  length  it  has  now  become  ft  wasting  disease.  Had 


HEXRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  63 

he  then  had  the  system  of  lies  that  he  no\v  has,  he  would 
somehow  have  bribed  a  slanderer,  who  would  have  de- 
clared that  he  was  Catharine's  lover.  But  he  was  yet  so 
innocent;  he  wanted  yet  to  gratify  his  darling  lusts  in  a 
perfectly  legal  way.  So  Anne  Boleyn  must  become  his 
queen,  that  he  might  love  her.  And  in  order  to  attain 
this,  he  threw  down  the  glove  to  the  whole  world,  became 
an  enemy  to  the  pope,  and  set  himself  in  open  opposition 
to  the  holy  head  of  the  Church.  Because  the  Holy  Fa- 
ther would  not  dissolve  his  marriage,  King  Henry  became 
an  apostate  and  atheist.  He  constituted  himself  head  of 
his  Church,  and,  by  virtue  of  his  authority  as  such,  he  de- 
clared his  marriage  with  Catharine  of  Aragon  null  and 
void.  He  said  that  he  had  not  in  his  heart  given  his  con- 
sent to  this  marriage,  and  that  it  had  not  consequently  been 
properly  consummated.*  It  is  true,  Catharine  had 'in  the 
Princess  Mary  a  living  witness  of  the  consummation  of  her 
marriage,  but  what  did  the  enamored  and  selfish  king  care 
about  that?  Princess  Mary  was  declared  a  bastard,  and 
the  queen  was  now  to  be  nothing  more  than  the  widow  of 
the  Prince  of  Wales.  It  was  strictly  forbidden  to  longer 
give  the  title  and  to  show  the  honor  due  to  a  queen,  to  the 
woman  who  for  seventeen  years  had  been  Queen  of  Eng- 
land, and  had  been  treated  and  honored  as  such.  No  one 
was  permitted  to  call  her  anything  but  the  Princess  of 
Wales;  and  that  nothing  might  disturb  the  good  people  or 
the  noble  queen  herself  in  this  illusion,  Catharine  was  ban- 
ished from  the  court  and  exiled  to  a  castle,  which  she  had 
once  occupied  as  consort  of  Arthur,  Prince  of  Wales.  And 
Henry  likewise  allowed  her  only  the  attendance  and  pen- 
sion which  the  law  appoints  to  the  widow  of  the  Prince  of 
Wales.f 

"  I  have  ever  held  this  to  be  one  of  the  most  prudent 
and  subtle  acts  of  our  exalted  king,  and  in  the  whole  his- 
tory of  this  divorce  the  king  conducted  himself  with  ad- 
mirable consistency  and  resolution.  But  this  is  to  say.  he 

• 

*  Burnet,  vol.  i,  p.  37.  f  Burnet,  vol.  i,  p.  120, 


fi4  IIK.NKY     VI 11.    AM)    HIS    COUKT. 

was  excited  by  opposition,  Mark  this,  then,  my  child,  for 
this  is  the  reason  why  I  have  spoken  to  you  of  these  things 
so  much  at  length.  Mark  this,  then:  King  Henry  is  every 
way  entirely  unahle  to  bear  contradiction,  or  to  be  sub- 
jected to  restraint.  If  you  wish  to  win  him  to  any  pur- 
pose, you  must  try  to  draw  him  from  it;  you  must  sur- 
round it  with  difficulties  and  hinderances.  Therefore 
show  yourself  coy  and  indifferent;  that  will  excite  him. 
Do  not  court  his  looks;  then  will  he  seek  to  encounter 
yours.  And  when  finally  he  loves  you,  dwell  so  long  on 
your  virtue  and  your  conscience,  that  at  length  Henry,  in 
order  to  quiet  your  conscience,  will  send  this  troublesome 
Catharine  Parr  to  the  block,  or  do  as  he  did  with  Catharine 
of  Aragon,  and  declare  that  he  did  not  mentally  give  his 
consent  to  this  marriage,  and  therefore  Catharine  is  no 
queen,  but  only  Lord  Neville's  widow.  Ah,  since  he  made 
himself  high-priest  of  his  Church,  there  is  no  impediment 
for  him  in  matters  of  this  kind,  for  only  God  is  mightier 
than  he. 

"The  beautiful  Anne  Boleyn,  Henry's  second  wife, 
proved  this.  I  have  seen  her  often,  and  I  tell  you,  Jane, 
she  was  of  wondrous  beauty.  Whoever  looked  upon  her, 
could  not  but  love  her,  and  he  whom  she  smiled  upon  felt 
himself  fascinated  and  glorified.  When  she  had  borne 
to  the  king  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  I  heard  him 
that  he  had  attained  the  summit  of  his  happiness,  the 
goal  of  his  wishes,  for  the  queen  had  borne  him  a 
daughter,  and  so  there  was  a  regular  and  legitimate 
-sor  to  his  throne.  But  this  happiness  lasted  only  a 
1'rief  time. 

"  The  king  conceived  one  day  that  Anne  Boleyn  was 
not,  as  he  had  hitherto  believed,  the  most  beautiful  woman 
in  the  world;  but  that  there  were  women  still  more  beauti- 
ful at  his  court,  who  therefore  had  a  stronger  vocation  to 
become  Queen  of  England.  He  had  seen  Jane  Seymour, 
nnd  she  without  doubt  was  handsomer  than  Anne  Boleyn, 
for  she  was  not  as  yet  the  king's  consort,  and  there  was  an 


HEXRY    VU1.    AND   HIS    COUKT.  ($5 

obstacle  to  his  possession  of  her — the  Queen  Anne  Boleyn. 
This  obstacle  must  be  go  out  of  the  way. 

"Henry,  by  virtue  of  his  plentitude  of  power,  might 
again  have  been  divorced  from  his  wife,  but  he  did  not 
like  to  repeat  himself,  he  wished  to  be  always  original; 
and  no  one  was  to  be  allowed  to  say  that  his  divorces  were 
only  the  cloak  of  his  capricious  lewdness. 

"  He  had  divorced  Catharine  of  Aragon  on  account  of 
conscientious  scruples;  therefore,  some  other  means  must 
be  devised  for  Anne  Boleyn. 

"  The  shortest  way  to  be  rid  of  her  was  the  scaffold. 
Why  should  not  Anne  travel  that  road,  since  so  many  had 
gone  it  before  her?  for  a  new  force  had  entered  into 
the  king's  life:  the  tiger  had  licked  Hood!  His  instinct 
was  aroused,  and  he  recoiled  no  more  from  those  crimson 
rills  which  flowed  in  the  veins  of  his^subjects. 

"  He  had  given  Lady  Anne  Boleyn  the  crimson  mantle 
of  royalty,  why  then  should  she  not  give  him  her  crimson 
blood?  For  this  there  was  wanted  only  a  pretext,  and  this 
was  soon  found.  Lady  Eochfort  was  Jane  Seymour's  aunt, 
and  she  found  some  men,  of  whom  she  asserted  that  they 
had  been  lovers  of  the  fair  Anne  Boleyn.  She,  as  the 
queen's  first  lady  of  the  bed-chamber,  could  of  course  give 
the  most  minute  particulars  concerning  the  matter,  and 
the  king  believed  her.  He  believed  her,  though  these 
four  pretended  lovers  of  the  queen,  who  were  executed  for 
their  crime,  all,  with  the  exception  of  a  single  one,  assev- 
erated that  Anne  Boleyn  was  innocent,  and  that  they  had 
never  been  in  her  presence.  The  only  one  who  accused 
the  queen  of  illicit  intercourse  with  him  was  James  Sinea- 
ton,  a  musician.*  But  he  had  been  promised  his  life  for 
this  confession.  However,  it  was  not  thought  advisable 
to  keep  this  promise,  for  fear  that,  when  confronted  with 
the  queen,  he  might  not  have  the  strength  to  sustain  his 
assertion.  But  not  to  be  altogether  unthankful  to  him 
for  so  useful  a  confession,  they  showed  him  the  favor  of 

*  Tytler. 


66  HKMiY    VIII.    AM)    HIS    COURT. 

not.  executing  him  with  the  axe,  but  the  more  agreeable 
and  easier  death  of  hanging  was  vouchsafed  to  him.* 

"  So  the  fair  and  lovely  Anne  Boleyn  must  lay  her 
head  upon  the  block.  The  day  on  which  this  took  place, 
the  king  had  ordered  a  great  hunt,  and  early  that  morning 
we  rode  out  to  Epping  Forest.  The  king  was  at  first  un- 
usually cheerful  and  humorous,  and  he  commanded  me  to 
ride  near  him,  and  tell  him  something  from  the  chroniijuc 
scandaleuse  of  our  court. .  lie  laughed  at  my  spiteful  re- 
marks, and  the  worse  I  calumniated,  the  merrier  was  the 
king.  Finally,  we  halted;  the  king  had  talked  and 
laughed  so  much  that  he  had  at  last  become  hungry.  So 
he  encamped  under  an  oak,  and,  in  the  midst  of  his  suite 
and  his  dogs,  he  took  a  breakfast,  which  pleased  him  very 
much,  although  he  had  now  become  a  little  quieter  and 
more  silent,  and  sometimes  turned  his  face  toward  the 
direction  of  London  with  visible  restlessness  and  anxiety. 
I '.ut  suddenly  was  heard  from  that  direction  the  dull  sound 
of  a  cannon.  We  all  knew  that  this  was  the  signal  which 
was  to  make  known  to  the  king  that  Anne  Boleyn's  head 
had  fallen.  We  knew  it,  and  a  shudder  ran  through  our 
whole  frames.  The  king  alone  smiled,  and  as  he  arose 
and  took  his  weapon  from  my  hand,  he  said,  with  cheer- 
ful face, '  It  is  done,  the  business  is  finished,  t'nleash  the 
dogs,  and  let  us  follow  the  boar.'  \ 

"That,"  said  Lord  Douglas,  sadly,  "that  was  King 
Henry's  funeral  discourse  over  his  charming  and  innocent 
wife." 

"Do  you  regret  her,  my  father?"  asked  Lady  Jane, 
with  surprise.  "  But  Anne  Boleyn  was,  it  seems  to  me, 
an  enemy  of  our  Church,  and  an  adherent  of  the  accursed 
new  doctrine." 

Her  father  shrugged  his  shoulders  almost  contemptu- 

*  Burnet,  vol.  i,  p.  205. 

fThe  kind's  very  words.  Tytlcr.  p.  WIl.  The  onk  under  which 
thi*  took  placo  is  still  pointed  out  in  Epping  Forest,  jind  in  fact  is 
not  !i>ss  reinnrkuMc  as  the  oak  of  Charles  II. 


HENRY   VIII.   AND  HTS  COURT.  ft? 

ously.  "  That  did  not  prevent  Lady  Anne  from  being  one 
of  the  fairest  and  loveliest  women  of  Old  England.  And, 
besides,  much  as  she  inclined  to  the  new  doctrine,  she  did 
us  essential  good  service,  for  she  it  was  who  bore  the  blame 
of  Thomas  M  ore's  death.  Since  he  had  not  approved  her 
marriage  with  the  king,  she  hated  him,  as  the  king  hated 
him  because  he  would  not  take  the  oath  of  supremacy. 
Henry,  however,  would  have  spared  him,  for,  at  that  time, 
he  still  possessed  some  respect  for  learning  and  virtue,  and 
Thomas  More  was  so  renowned  a  scholar  that  the  king  held 
him  in  reverence.  But  Anne  Boleyn  demanded  his  death, 
and  so  Thomas  More  must  be  executed.  Oh,  believe  me, 
Jane,  that  was  an  important  and  sad  hour  for  all  England, 
the  hour  when  Thomas  More  laid  his  head  upon  the  block. 
We  only,  we  gay  people  in  the  palace  of  Whitehall,  we  were 
cheerful  and  merry.  We  were  dancing  a  new  kind  of 
dance,  the  music  of  which  was  written  by  the  king  him- 
self, for  you  know  the  king  is  not  merely  an  author,  but 
also  a  composer,  and  as  he  now  writes  pious  books,  so  he 
then  composed  dances.*  That  evening,  after  we  had 
danced  till  we  were  tired,  we  played  cards.  Just  as  I  had 
won  a  few  guineas  from  the  king,  the  lieutenant  of  the 
Tower  came  with  the  tidings  that  the  execution  was  over, 
and  gave  us  a  description  of  the  last  moments  of  the  great 
scholar.  The  king  threw  down  his  cards,  and,  turning  an 
angry  look  on  Anne  Boleyn,  said,  in  an  agitated  voice, 
'  You  are  to  blame  for  the  death  of  this  man! '  Then  he 
arose  and  withdrew  to  his  apartments,  whither  no  one  was 
permitted  to  follow  him,  not  even  the  queen,  f  You  see, 
then,  that  Anne  Boleyn  had  a  claim  on  our  gratitude,  for 
the  death  of  Thomas  More  delivered  Old  England  from 
another  great  peril.  Melanchthon  and  Bucer,  and  with 
them  several  of  the  greatest  pulpit  orators  of  Germany, 
had  set  out  to  come  to  London,  and,  as  delegates  of  the 
Germanic  Protestant  princes,  to  nominate  the  king  as 

*  Granger's  "Biographical  History  of  England,"  vol.  i,  p.  137. 
f  Tytler,  p.  854. 


t>  HKNKY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

head  of  their  alliance.  But  the  terrible  news  of  the  exe- 
cution of  their  friend  frightened  them  back,  and  caused 
them  to  return  when  half-way  here.* 

"  Peace,  then,  to  the  ashes  of  unhappy  Anne  Boleyn! 
However,  she  was  avenged  too,  avenged  on  her  successor 
and  rival,  for  whose  sake  she  was  made  to  mount  the  scaf- 
fold— avenged  on  Jane  Seymour." 

"  But  she  was  the  king's  beloved  wife/'  said  Jane, 
"  and  when  she  died  the  king  mourned  for  her  two  year-." 

"  He  mourned!  "  exclaimed  Lord  Douglas,  contemptu- 
ously. "  He  has  mourned  for  all  his  wives.  Even  for 
Anne  Boleyn  he  put  on  mourning,  and  in  his  white  mourn- 
ing apparel,  the  day  after  Anne's  execution,  he  led  Jane 
Seymour  to  the  marriage  altar,  f  This  outward  mourning, 
what  does  it  signify?  Anne  Boleyn  also  mourned  for 
Catharine  of  Aragon,  whom  she  had  pushed  from  the 
throne.  For  eight  weeks  she  was  seen  in  yellow  mourning 
on  account  of  Henry's  first  wife;  but  Anne  Boleyn  was  a 
shrewd  woman,  and  she  knew  ^ery  wrell  that  the  yellow 
mourning  dress  was  exceedingly  becoming  to  her."  * 

"  But  the  king's  mourning  was  not  merely  external,'' 
said  Lady  Jane.  "He  mourned  really,  for  it  was  two 
years  before  he  resolved  on  a  new  marriage." 

Earl  Dougjas  laughed.  "  But  he  cheered  himself  dur- 
ing these  two  years  of  widowhood  with  a  very  beautiful 
mistress,  the  French  Marchioness  de  Montreuil,  and  he 
would  have  married  her  had  not  the  prudent  beauty  pre- 
ferred returning  to  France,  because  she  found  it  altogether 
too  dangerous  to  become  Henry's  consort.  For  it  is  not 
to  be  denied,  a  baleful  star  hovers  over  Henry's  queens, 
and  none  of  them  has  descended  from  the  throne  in  a 
natural  way." 

"  Yet,  father,  Jane  Seymour  did  so  in  a  very  natural 
way;  she  died  in  childbed." 

"  Well,  yes,  in  childbed.     And  yet  by  no  natural  death, 

*  Tytler,  p.  &57.     Leti,  vol.  i,  p.  1*" 
f  Grauger,  vol.  i,  p.  119.  J  Ibid. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  69 

for  she  could  have  been  saved.  But  Henry  did  not  wish 
to  save  her.  His  love  had  already  grown  cool,  and  when 
the  physicians  asked  him  whether  they  should  save  the 
mother  or  the  child,  he  replied,  '  Save  the  child,  and  let 
the  mother  die.  I  can  get  wives  enough.'  *  Ah,  my 
daughter,  I  hope  you  may  not  die  such  a  natural  death 
as  Jane  Seymour  did,  for  whom,  as  you  say,  the  king 
mourned  two  years.  But  after  that  period,  something 
new,  something  altogether  extraordinary  happened  to  the 
king.  He  fell  in  love  with  a  picture,  and  because,  in 
his  proud  self-conceit,  he  was  convinced  that  the  fine  pic- 
ture which  Holbein  had  made  of  him,  was  not  at  all  nat- 
tered, but  entirely  true  to  nature,  it  did  not  occur  to  him 
that  Holbein's  likeness  of  the  Princess  Anne  of  Cleves 
might  be  somewhat  flattered,  and  not  altogether  faithful. 
So  the  king  fell  in  love  with  a  picture,  and  sent  ambassa- 
dors to  Germany  to  bring  the  original  of  the  portrait  to 
England  as  his  bride.  He  himself  went  to  meet  her  at 
Rochester,  where  she  was  to  land.  Ah,  my  child,  I  have 
witnessed  many  queer  and  droll  things  in  my  eventful  life, 
but  the  scene  at  Rochester,  however,  is  among  my  most 
spicy  recollections.  The  king  was  as  enthusiastic  as  a 
poet,  and  deep  in  love  as  a  youth  of  twenty,  and  so  be- 
gan our  romantic  wedding-trip,  on  which  Henry  disguised 
himself  and  took  part  in  it,  assuming  the  name  of  my 
cousin.  As  the  king's  master  of  horse,  I  was  honored  with 
the  commission  of  carrying  to  the  young  queen  the  greet- 
ing of  her  ardent  husband,  and  begging  her  to  receive  the 
knight,  who  would  deliver  to  her  a  present  from  the  king. 
She  granted  my  request  with  a  grin  which  made  visible  a 
frightful  row  of  yellow  teeth.  I  opened  the  door,  and  in- 
vited the  king  to  enter.  Ah,  you  ought  to  have  witnessed 
that  scene!  It  is  the  only  farcial  passage  in  the  bloody 
tragedy  of  Henry's  married  life.  You  should  have  seen 
with  what  hasty  impatience  the  king  rushed  in,  then  sud- 
denly, at  the  sight  of  her,  staggered  back  and  stared  at 

*  Rnniet. 


70  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

the  princess.  Slowly  retiring,  lie  silently  thrust  into  my 
hand  the  rich  present  that  he  had  brought,  while  at  the 
same  time  he  threw  a  look  of  flaming  wrath  on  Lord  Crom- 
well, who  had  brought  him  the  portrait  of  the  princess  and 
won  him  to  this  marriage.  The  romantic,  ardent  lover 
vanished  with  this  look  at  his  beloved.  He  approached 
the  princess  again — this  time  not  as  a  cavalier,  but,  with 
harsh  and  hasty  words,  he  told  her  he  was  the  king  himself. 
He  bade  her  welcome  in  a  few  words,  and  gave  her  a  cold, 
formal  embrace.  He  then  hastily  took  my  hand  and  drew 
me  out  of  the  room,  beckoning  the  rest  to  follow  him. 
And  when  at  length  we  were  out  of  the  atmosphere  of  this 
poor  ugly  princess,  and  far  enough  away  from  her,  the  king, 
with  angry  countenance,  said  to  Cromwell:  '  Call  you  that 
a  beauty?  She  is  a  Flanders  mare,  but  no  princess.'  * 
Anne's  ugliness  was  surely  given  her  of  God,  that  by  it, 
the  Church,  in  which  alone  is  salvation,  might  be  delivered 
from  the  great  danger  which  threatened  it.  For  had 
Anne  of  Cleves,  the  sister,  niece,  granddaughter  and  aunt 
of  all  the  Protestant  princes  of  Germany,  been  beautiful, 
incalculable  danger  would  have  threatened  our  church. 
The  king  could  not  overcome  his  repugnance,  and  again 
his  conscience,  which  always  appeared  to  be  most  tender 
and  scrupulous,  when  it  was  farthest  from  it  and  most  re- 
gardless, must  come  to  his  aid. 

"  The  king  declared  that  he  had  been  only  in  appear- 
ance, not  in  his  innermost  conscience,  disposed  to  this  mar- 
riage, from  which  he  now  shrank  back,  because  it  would  be, 
properly  speaking,  nothing  more  than  perfidy,  perjury, 
and  bigamy.  For  Anne's  father  had  once  betrothed  her  to 
the  son  of  the  Duke  of  Lorraine,  and  had  solemnly  pledged 
him  his  word  to  give  her  as  a  wife  to  the  young  duke  as 
soon  as  she  was  of  age;  rings  had  been  exchanged  and  the 
marriage  contract  alre;i<ly  drawn  up.  Anne  of  Cleves, 
therefore,  was  virtually  already  married,  and  Henry,  with 
his  tender  conscience,  could  not  make  one  already  married 

*  Burnct,  p.  174.     Tytler,  p.  417. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  ft 

his  wife.*  He  made  her,  therefore,  his  sister,  and  gave 
her  the  palace  at  llichmond  for  a  residence,  in  case  she 
wished  to  remain  in  England..  She  accepted  it;  her  blood, 
which  crept  coldly  and  quietly  through  her  veins,  did  not 
rise  at  the  thought  of  being  despised  and  repudiated.  She 
accepted  it,  and  remained  in  England. 

"  She  was  rejected  because  she  was  ugly;  and  now  the 
king  selected  Catharine  Howard  for  his  fifth  consort,  be- 
cause she  was  pretty.  Of  this  marriage  I  know  but  little 
to  tell  you,  for,  at  that  time,  I  had  already  gone  to  Dublin 
as  minister,  whither  you  soon  followed  me.  Catharine  was 
very  beautiful,  and  the  king's  heart,  now  growing  old,  once 
more  flamed  high  with  youthful  love.  He  loved  her  more 
warmly  than  any  other  of  his  wives.  He  was  so  happy  in 
her  that,  kneeling  down  publicly  in  the  church,  with  a 
loud  voice  he  thanked  God  for  the  happiness  which  his 
beautiful  young  queen  afforded  him.  But  this  did  not 
last  long.  Even  while  the  king  was  extolling  it,  his  happi- 
ness had  reached  its  highest  point,  and  the  next  day  he 
was  dashed  down  into  the  abyss.  I  speak  without  poetical 
exaggeration,  my  child.  The  day  before,  he  thanked  God 
for  his  happiness,  and  the  next  morning  Catharine  How- 
ard was  already  imprisoned  and  accused,  as  an  unfaithful 
wife,  a  shameless  strumpet,  f  More  than  seven  lovers  had 
preceded  her  royal  spouse,  and  some  of  them  had  accom- 
panied her  even  on  the  progress  through  Yorkshire,  which 
she  made  with  the  king  her  husband.  This  time  it  was  no 
pretence,  for  he  had  not  yet  had  time  to  fall  in  love  with 
another  woman,  and  Catharine  well  knew  how  to  enchain 
him  and  ever  to  kindle  new  flames  within  him.  But  just 
because  he  loved  her,  he  could  not  forgive  her  for  having 
deceived  him.  In  love  there  is  so  much  cruelty  and 
hatred;  and  Henry,  who  but  yesterday  lay  at  her  feet, 
burned  to-day  with  rage  and  jealousy,  as  yesterday  with 
love  and  rapture.  In  his  rage,  however,  he  still  loved  her, 
and  when  he  held  in  his  hand  indubitable  proof  of  her 

*Burnet,  f  Tytler,  p.  432. 


72  11  K.NUY     Vlll.    A.ND    HIS    COURT. 

guilt,  lie  wept  like  a  child.  But  since  he  could  no  longer 
be  her  lover,  he  would  ~be  her  hangman;  since  she  had 
spotted  the  crimson  of  his  royal  mantle,  he  would  dye  it 
afresh  with  her  own  crimson  blood.  And  he  did  so.  Cath- 
arine Howard  was  forced  to  lay  her  beautiful  head  upon 
the  block,  as  Anne  Boleyn  had  done  before  her;  and 
Anne's  death  was  now  once  more  avenged.  Lady  Roch- 
fort  had  been  Anne  Boleyn's  accuser,  and  her  testimony 
had  brought  that  queen  to  the  scaffold;  but  now  she  was 
convicted  of  being  Catharine  Howard's  assistant  and  con- 
fidante in  her  love  adventures,  and  with  Catharine,  Lady 
Rochfort  also  ascended  the  scaffold. 

"  Ah,  the  king  needed  a  long  time  to  recover  from  this 
blow.  lie  searched  two  years  for  a  pure,  uncontaminated 
virgin,  who  might  become  his  quoen  without  danger  of  the 
scaffold.  But  he  found  none;  so  he  took  then  Lord  Ne- 
ville's widow,  Catharine  Parr.  But  you  know,  my  child, 
that  Catharine  is  an  unlucky  name  for  Henry's  queens. 
The  first  Catharine  he  repudiated,  the  second  he  beheaded. 
What  will  he  do  with  the  third?  " 

Lady  Jane  smiled.  "  Catharine  does  not  love  him," 
said  she,  "and  I  believe  she  would  willingly  consent, 
like  Anne  of  Cleves,  to  become  his  sister,  instead  of  his 
wife." 

"  Catharine  does  not  love  the  king?  "  inquired  Lord 
Douglas,  in  breathless  suspense.  "  She  loves  another, 
then! " 

"  No,  my  father!  Her  heart  is  yet  like  a  sheet  of 
white  paper:  no  single  name  is  yet  inscribed  there." 

"  Then  we  must  write  a  name  there,  and  this  name 
must  drive  her  to  the  scaffold,  or  into  banishment,"  paid 
her  father  impetuously.  "  It  is  your  business,  my  child, 
to  take  a  steel  graver,  and  in  some  way  write  a  name  in 
(  atharine's  heart  so  deep  and  indelibly,  that  the  king  may 
some  day  read  it  there." 


HENRY    VIH.   AND   HIS    COURT.  73 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

FATHER   AND    DAUGHTER. 

BOTH  now  kept  silent  for  a  long  time.  Lord  Dougla? 
had  leaned  back  on  the  ottoman,  and,  respiring  heavily, 
seemed  to  breathe  a  little  from  the  exertion  of  his  long  dis- 
course. But  while  he  rested,  his  large,  piercing  eyes  were 
constantly  turned  to  Jane,  who,  leaning  back  on  the  cush- 
ion, was  staring  thoughtfully  into  the  empty  air,  and 
seemed  to  be  entirely  forgetful  of  her  father's  presence. 

A  cunning  smile  played  for  a  moment  over  the  counte- 
nance of  the  earl  as  he  observed  her,  but  it  quickly  disap- 
peared, and  now  deep  folds  of  care  gathered  on  his  brow. 

As  he  saw  that  Lady  Jane  was  plunging  deeper  and 
deeper  into  reverie,  he  at  length  laid  his  hand  on  her 
shoulder  and  hastily  asked,  "  What  are  you  thinking  of. 
Jane?" 

She  gave  a  sudden  start,  and  looked  at  the  earl  with 
an  embarrassed  air. 

"  I  am  thinking  of  all  that  you  have  been  saying  to  me. 
my  father,"  replied  she,  calmly.  "  I  am  considering  what 
benefit  to  our  object  I  can  draw  from  it." 

Lord  Douglas  shook  his  head,  and  smiled  incredulously. 
At  length  he  said  solemnly:  "  Take  care,  Jane,  take  care 
that  your  heart  does  not  deceive  your  head.  If  we  would 
reach  our  aim  here,  you  must,  above  all  things,  maintain  a 
cool  heart  and  a  cool  head.  Do  you  still  possess  both, 
Jane?  " 

In  confusion  she  cast  down  her  eyes  before  his  pene- 
trating look.  Lord  Douglas  noticed  it,  and  a  passionate 
word  was  already  on  his  lips.  But  he  kept  it  back.  As  a 
prudent  diplomat,  he  knew  that  it  is  often  more  politic  to 
destroy  a  thing  by  ignoring  it,  than  to  enter  into  an  open 
contest  with  it.  The  feelings  are  like  the  dragons'  teeth 
of  Theseus.  If  you  contend  with  them,  they  always  grow 
again  anew,  and  with  renewed  energy,  out  of  the  soil. 
6 


74  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

Lord  Douglas,  therefore,  was  very  careful  not  to  notice 
his  daughter's  confusion.  "  Pardon  me,  my  daughter,  if, 
in  my  zeal  and  my  tender  care  for  you,  I  go  too  far.  I 
know  that  your  dear  and  beautiful  head  is  cool  enough  to 
wear  a  crown.  I  know  that  in  your  heart  dwell  only  am- 
bition and  religion.  Let  us,  then,  further  consider  what 
we  have  to  do  in  order  to  attain  our  end. 

"  We  have  spoken  of  Henry  as  a  husband,  of  Henry  as 
a  man;  and  I  hope  you  have  drawn  some  useful  lessons 
from  the  fate  of  his  wives.  You  have  learned  that  it  is 
necessary  to  possess  all  the  good  and  all  the  bad  qualities 
of  woman  in  order  to  control  this  stiff-necked  and  tyran- 
nical, this  lustful  and  bigoted,  this  vain  and  sensual  man, 
whom  the  wrath  of  God  has  made  King  of  England.  You 
must,  before  all  things,  be  perfect  master  of  the  difficult 
art  of  coquetry.  You  must  become  a  female  Proteus — to- 
day a  Messalina,  to-morrow  a  nun;  to-day  one  of  the  lite- 
rati, to-morrow  a  playful  child;  you  must  ever  seek  to 
surprise  the  king,  to  keep  him  on  the  stretch,  to  enliven 
him.  You  must  never  give  way  to  the  dangerous  feeling 
of  security,  for  in  fact  King  Henry's  wife  is  never  safe. 
The  axe  always  hangs  over  her  head,  and  you  must  ever 
consider  your  husband  as  only  a  fickle  lover,  whom  you 
must  every  day  captivate  anew." 

"  You  speak  as  though  I  were  already  queen,"  said 
Lady  Jane,  smiling;  "  and  yet  I  cannot  but  think  that,  in 
order  to  come  to  that,  many  difficulties  are  to  be  overcome, 
which  may  indeed  perhaps  be  insuperable/' 

"Insuperable!"  exclaimed  her  father  with  a  shrug  of 
the  shoulders.  "  With  the  aid  of  the  holy  Church,  no 
hinderance  is  insuperable.  Only,  we  must  be  perfectly 
acquainted  with  our  end  and  our  means.  Do  not  despise, 
then,  to  sound  the  character  of  this  king  ever  and  again, 
and  be  certain  you  will  always  find  in  him  some  new  hid- 
den recess,  some  surprising  peculiarity.  We  have  spoken 
of  him  as  a  husband  and  the  father  of  a  family,  but  of  his 
religious  and  political  standing  I  have  as  yet  told  you 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  7.5 

nothing.     And  yet  that,  my  child,  is  the  principal  point 
in  his  whole  character. 

"  In  the  first  place,  then,  Jane,  I  will  tell  you  a  secret. 
The  king,  who  has  constituted  himself  high-priest  of  his 
Church — whom  the  pope  once  called  '  the  Knight  of  the 
Truth  and  the  Faith ' — the  king  has  at  the  bottom  of  his 
heart  no  religion.  He  is  a  wavering  reed,  which  the  wind 
turns  this  way  to-day,  and  that  way  to-morrow.  He  knows 
not  his  own  will,  and,  coquetting  with  both  parties,  to-day 
he  is  a  heretic,  in  order  to  exhibit  himself  as  a  strong, 
unprejudiced,  enlightened  man;  to-morrow  a  Catholic,  in 
order  to  show  himself  an  obedient  and  humble  servant  of 
God,  who  seeks  and  finds  his  happiness  only  in  love  and 
piety.  But  for  both  confessions  of  faith  he  possesses  at 
heart  a  profound  indifference;  and  had  the  pope  at  that 
time  placed  no  difficulties  in  his  way,  had  he  consented  to 
his  divorce  from  Catharine,  Henry  would  have  always  re- 
mained a  very  good  and  active  servant  of  the  Catholic 
Church.  But  they  were  imprudent  enough  to  irritate 
him  by  contradiction;  they  stimulated  his  vanity  and 
pride  to  resistance;  and  so  Henry  became  a  church  re- 
former, not  from  conviction,  but  out  of  pure  love  of  opposi- 
tion. And  that,  my  child,  you  must  never  forget,  for,  by 
means  of  this  lever,  you  may  very  well  convert  him  again 
to  a  devout,  dutiful,  and  obedient  servant  of  our  holy 
Church.  He  has  renounced  the  pope,  and  usurped  the 
supremacy  of  the  Church,  but  he  cannot  summon  up  cour- 
age to  carry  out  his  work  and  throw  himself  wholly  into 
the  arms  of  the  Eeformation.  However  much  he  has  op- 
posed the  person  of  the  pope,  still  he  has  always  remained 
devoted  to  the  Church,  although  perhaps  he  does  not  know 
it  himself.  He  is  no  Catholic,  and  he  hears  mass;  he  has 
broken  up  the  monasteries,  and  yet  forbids  priests  to 
marry;  he  has  the  Lord's  supper  administered  under  both 
kindg,  and  believes  in  the  real  transubstantiate  on  of  the 
wine  into  the  Redeemer's  holy  blood,  He  destroys  the 
convents,  and  yet  command*  that  vowi  of  chastity,  ipoken 


TI'.  Hi:\KY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

by  man  or  woman,  must  be  faithfully  kept;  and  lastly. 
auricular  confession  is  still  a  necessary  constituent  of  his 
Church.  And  these  he  calls  his  six  articles,*  and  the 
foundation  of  his  English  Church.  Poor,  short-sighted 
and  vain  man!  He  knows  not  that  he  has  done  all  this, 
only  because  he  wanted  to  be  the  pope  himself,  and  he  is 
nothing  more  than  an  anti-pope  of  the  Holy  Father  at 
Home,  whom  he,  in  his  blasphemous  pride,  dares  call  '  the 
Bishop  of  Rome.' r' 

"  But,  for  this  audacity,"  said  Jane,  with  looks  of  burn- 
ing rage,  "  the  anathema  has  struck  him  and  laid  a  curse 
upon  his  head,  and  given  him  up  to  the  hatred,  contempt, 
and  scorn  of  his  own  subjects.  Therefore,  the  Holy  Fa- 
ther has  justly  named  him  '  the  apostate  and  lost  son,  the 
blaspheming  usurper  of  the  holy  Church.'  Therefore,  the 
pope  has  declared  his  crown  forfeited,  and  promised  it  to 
him  who  will  vanquish  him  by  force  of  arms.  Therefore, 
the  pope  has  forbidden  any  of  his  subjects  to  obey  him, 
and  respect  and  recognize  him  as  king."  f 

"And  yet  he  remains  King  of  England,  and  his  sub- 
jects still  obey  him  in  slavish  submission,"  exclaimed  Earl 
Douglas,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  It  is  very  unwise  to 
go  so  far  in  threats,  for  one  should  never  threaten  with 
punishment  which  he  is  not  likewise  able  to  really  execute. 
This  Romish  interdict  has  rather  been  an  advantage  to 
the  king,  than  done  him  harm,  for  it  has  forced  the  king 
into  haughtier  opposition,  and  proved  to  his  subjects  that 
a  man  may  really  be  under  an  interdict,  and  yet  in  prosper- 
ity and  the  full  enjoyment  of  life." 

"  The  pope's  excommunication  has  not  hurt  the  king 
at  all;  his  throne  has  not  felt  the  slightest  jar  from  it,  but 
the  apostasy  of  the  king  has  deprived  the  Holy  See  at 
Rome  of  a  very  perceptible  support;  therefore  we  must 
bring  the  faithless  king  back  to  the  holy  Church,  for  she 
needs  him.  And  this,  my  daughter,  is  the  work  that  God 
and  the  will  of  His  holy  representative  have  placed  in  your 

*Burnet,  vol.  i,  p.  259.     Tytler,  p.  402.        f  Leti,  vol.  i,  p.  134. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  77 

hands.  A  noble,  glorious,  and  at  the  same  time  profitable 
work,  for  it  makes  you  a  queen!  But  I  repeat,  be  cautious, 
never  irritate  the  king  by  contradiction.  Without  their 
knowing  it,  we  must  lead  the  wavering  where  salvation 
awaits  them.  For,  as  we  have  said,  he  is  a  waverer;  and  in 
the  haughty  pride  of  his  royalty,  he  has  the  presumption 
to  wish  to  stand  above  all  parties,  and  to  be  himself  able 
to  found  a  new  Church,  a  Church  which  is  neither  Catholic 
nor  Protestant,  but  his  Church;  to  which,  in  the  six 
articles,  the  so-called  '  Bloody  Statute/  he  has  given  its 
laws. 

"  He  will  not  be  Protestant  nor  Catholic,  and,  in 
order  to  show  his  impartiality,  he  is  an  equally  terrible 
persecutor  of  both  parties.  So  that  it  has  come  to  pass 
that  we  must  say,  '  In  England,  Catholics  are  hanged,  and 
those  not  such  are  burned.'  *  It  gives  the  king  pleasure 
to  hold  with  steady  and  cruel  hand  the  balance  between 
the  two  parties,  and  on  the  same  day  that  he  has  a  papist 
incarcerated,  because  he  has  disputed  the  king's  suprem- 
acy, he  has  one  of  the  reformed  put  upon  the  rack,  because 
he  lias  denied  the  real  transubstantiation  of  the  wine,  or 
perhaps  has  disputed  concerning  the  necessity  of  auricular 
confession.  Indeed,  during  the  last  session  of  Parliament, 
five  men  were  hanged  because  they  disputed  the  suprem- 
acy, and  five  others  burned  because  they  professed  the  re- 
formed views!  And  this  evening,  Jane — this,  the  king'? 
wedding-night — by  the  special  order  of  the  king,  who 
wanted  to  show  his  impartiality  as  head  of  the  Church, 
Catholics  and  Protestants  have  been  coupled  together  like 
dogs,  and  hurried  to  the  stake,  the  Catholics  being  con- 
demned as  traitors,  and  the  others  as  heretics! "  f 

"  Oh,"  said  Jane,  shuddering  and  turning  pale,  "  I  will 
not  be  Queen  of  England.  I  have  a  horror  of  this  cruel, 
savage  king,  whose  heart  is  wholly  without  compassion  or 
pity!" 

Her  father  laughed.     "  Do  you  not  then  know,  child, 

*  Leti,  vol.  i,  p.  142.  I  Tytler,  p.  28. 


78  HEXKY   VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 

how  you  can  make  the  hyciia  gentle,  and  the  tiger  tame? 
You  throw  them  again  and  again  a  fresh  prey,  which  they 
may  devour,  and  since  they  love  blood  so  dearly,  you  con- 
stantly give  them  blood  to  drink,  so  that  they  may  never 
thirst  for  it.  The  king's  only  steady  and  unchanging 
peculiarity  is  his  cruelty  and  delight  in  blood;  one  then 
must  always  have  some  food  ready  for  these,  then  he 
will  ever  be  a  very  affectionate  and  gracious  king  and 
husband. 

"  And  there  is  no  lack  of  objects  for  this  bloodthirsti- 
ness.  There  are  so  many  men  and  women  at  his  court, 
and  when  he  is  precisely  in  a  bloodthirsty  humor,  it  is 
all  the  same  to  Henry  whose  blood  he  drinks.  He  has 
shed  the  blood  of  his  wives  and  relatives;  he  has  exe- 
cuted those  whom  he  called  his  most  confidential  friends; 
he  has  sent  the  noblest  men  of  his  kingdom  to  the 
scaffold. 

"  Thomas  More  knew  him  very  well,  and  in  a  few  strik- 
ing words  he  summed  up  the  whole  of  the  king's  character. 
Ah,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  see  now  the  quiet  and  gentle  face 
of  this  wise  man,  as  I  saw  him  standing  in  yonder  bay- 
window,  and  near  him  the  king,  his  arms  around  the  neck 
of  High-Chancellor  More,  and  listening  to  his  discourse 
with  a  kind  of  reverential  devotion.  And  when  the  king 
had  gone,  I  walked  up  to  Thomas  More  and  congratulated 
him  on  the  high  and  world-renowned  favor  in  which  he 
stood  with  the  king.  '  The  king  really  loves  you,'  said  I. 
'  Yes,'  replied  he,  with  his  quiet,  sad  smile,  '  yes,  the  king 
truly  loves  me.  But  that  would  not  for  one  moment  hin- 
der him  from  giving  my  head  for  a  valuable  diamond,  a 
beautiful  woman,  or  a  hand's  breadth  of  land  in  France/  * 
He  was  right,  and  for  a  beautiful  woman,  the  head  of  this 
sage  had  to  fall,  of  whom  the  most  Christian  emperor  and 
king,  Charles  V.,  said:  '  Had  I  been  the  master  of  such  a 
servant,  of  whose  ability  and  greatness  we  have  had  so 
much  experience  for  many  years;  had  I  possessed  an  ad- 

*  Leti.  vol.  i,  p.  194. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  79 

viser  so  wise  and  earnest  as  Thomas  More  was,  I  would 
rather  have  lost  the  best  city  of  my  realm,  than  so  worthy 
a  servant  and  counsellor.'  * 

"No,  Jane,  be  that  your  first  and  most  sacred  rule, 
never  to  trust  the  king,  and  never  reckon  on  the  duration 
of  his  affection  and  the  manifestations  of  his  favor.  For, 
in  the  perfidy  of  his  heart,  it  often  pleases  him  to  load 
with  tokens  of  his  favor  those  whose  destruction  he  has  al- 
ready resolved  upon,  to  adorn  and  decorate  with  orders  and 
jewels  to-day  those  whom  to-morrow  he  is  going  to  put  to 
death.  It  flatters  his  self-complacency,  like  the  lion,  to 
play  a  little  with  the  puppy  he  is  about  to  devour.  Thus 
did  he  with  Cromwell,  for  many  years  his  counsellor  and 
friend,  who  had  committed  no  other  crime  than  that 
of  having  first  exhibited  to  the  king  the  portrait  of  the 
ugly  Anne  of  Cleves,  whom  Holbein  had  turned  into  a 
beauty.  But  the  king  took  good  care  not  to  be  angry 
with  Cromwell,  or  to  reproach  him  for  it.  Much  more 
— in  recognition  of  his  great  services,  he  raised  him  to 
the  earldom  of  Essex,  decorated  him  with  the  Order 
of  the  Garter  and  appointed  him  lord  chamberlain;  and 
then,  when  Cromwell  felt  perfectly  secure  and  proudly 
basked  in  the  sunshine  of  royal  favor,  then  all  at  once 
the  king  had  him  arrested  and  dragged  to  the  tower, 
in  order  to  accuse  him  of  high  treason,  f  And  so  Crom- 
well was  executed,  because  Anne  of  Cleves  did  not  please 
the  king,  and  because  Hans  Holbein  had  flattered  her 
picture. 

"  But  now  we  have  had  enough  of  the  past,  Jane. 
Now  let  us  speak  of  the  present  and  of  the  future,  my 
daughter.  Let  us  now  first  of  all  devise  the  means  to 
overthrow  this  woman  who  stands  in  our  way.  When  she 
is  once  overthrown,  it  will  not  be  very  difficult  for  us  to 
put  you  in  her  place.  For  you  are  now  here,  near  the 
king.  The  great  mistake  in  our  earlier  efforts  was,  that 
we  were  not  present  and  could  work  only  through  go- 

*  Tytlor,  p.  354.  f  Tbid,  p.  423. 


80  HK.YRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

betweens  and  confidants.  The  king  did  not  see  you,  and 
since  the  unlucky  affair  with  Anne  of  Cleves  he  mistrusts 
likenesses;  I  very  well  knew  that,  for  I,  my  child,  confide 
in  no  one,  not  even  in  the  most  faithful  and  noblest 
friends.  I  rely  upon  nobody  but  ourselves.  Had  we  been 
here,  you  would  now  be  Queen  of  England  instead  of  Cath- 
arine Parr.  But,  to  our  misfortune,  I  was  still  the  fa- 

V 

vorite  of  the  Regent  of  Scotland,  and  as  such,  I  could  not 
venture  to  approach  Henry.  It  was  necessary  that  I 
should  fall  into  disgrace  there,  in  order  to  be  again  sure  of 
the  king's  favor  here. 

"  So  I  fell  into  disgrace  and  fled  with  you  hither. 
Now,  then,  here  we  are,  and  let  the  fight  begin.  *&nd 
you  have  to-day  already  taken  an  important  step  toward 
our  end.  You  have  attracted  the  notice  of  the  king, 
and  established  yourself  still  more  securely  in  the  favor  of 
Catharine.  I  confess,  Jane,  I  am  charmed  with  your 
prudent  conduct.  You  have  this  day  won  the  hearts 
of  all  parties,  and  it  was  wonderfully  shrewd  in  you  to 
come  to  the  aid  of  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  as  you  at  the  same 
time  won  to  you  the  heretical  party,  to  which  Anne  Askew 
belongs.  Oh,  it  was  indeed,  Jane,  a  stroke  of  policy  that 
you  made.  For  the  Howard  family  is  the  most  powerful 
and  greatest  at  court,  and  Henry,  Earl  of  Surrey,  is  one  of 
its  noblest  representatives.  Therefore  we  have  now  al- 
ready a  powerful  party  at  court,  which  has  in  view  only 
the  high  and  holy  aim  of  securing  a  victory  for  the  holy 
Church,  and  which  quietly  and  silently  works  only  for  this 
— to  again  reconcile  the  king  to  the  pope.  Henry  How- 
ard, Earl  of  Surrey,  like  his  father,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  is 
a  good  Catholic,  as  his  niece  Catharine  Howard  was;  only 
she,  besides  God  and  the  Church,  was  a  little  too  fond  of 
the  images  of  God — fine-looking  men.  It  \\;i^  tliN  that 
gave  the  victory  to  the  other  party,  and  forced  the  Catho- 
lic to  succumb  to  the  heretical  party  at  court.  Yes,  for 
the  moment,  Cranmer  with  Catharine  has  got  the  better 
of  us,  but  soon  Gardiner  with  Jane  Douglas  will  overcome 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  gl 

the  heretics,  and  send  them  to  the  scaffold.  That  is  our 
plan,  and,  God  permitting,  we  will  carry  it  out." 

"  But  it  will  be  a  difficult  undertaking/'  said  Lady 
Jane,  with  a  sigh.  "  The  queen  is  a  pure,  transparent 
soul;  she  has  a  shrewd  head  and  a  clear  glance.  She  is, 
moreover,  guileless  in  her  thoughts,  and  recoils  with  true 
maidenly  timidity  from  every  sin/' 

"  We  must  cure  her  of  this  timidity,  and  that  is  your 
task,  Jane.  You  must  despoil  her  of  these  strict  notions 
about  virtue.  With  flattering  voice  you  must  ensnare  her 
heart,  and  entice  it  to  sin." 

"  Oh,  that  is  an  infernal  plot! "  said  Lady  Jane,  turning 
pale.  "  That,  my  father,  would  be  a  crime,  for  that 
would  be  not  only  destroying  her  earthly  happiness,  but 
also  imperilling  her  soul.  I  must  entice  her  to  a  crime; 
that  is  your  dishonorable  demand!  But  I  will  not  obey 
you!  It  is  true,  I  hate  her,  for  she  stands  in  the  way  of 
my  ambition.  It  is  true  I  will  destroy  her,  for  she  wears 
the  crown  which  I  wish  to  possess;  but  never  will  I  be  so 
base  as  to  pour  into  her  very  heart  the  poison  by  which  she 
shall  fall.  Let  her  seek  the  poison  for  herself;  I  will  nol 
hold  back  her  hand;  I  will  not  warn  her.  Let  her  seek 
the  ways  of  sin  herself:  I  will  not  tell  her  that  she  has 
erred;  but  I  will,  from  afar,  dog  her,  and  watch  each  step, 
and  listen  for  every  word  and  sigh,  and  when  she  has  com- 
mitted a  crime,  then  I  will  betray  her,  and  deliver  her  up 
to  her  judges.  That  is  what  I  can  and  will  do.  I  will  be 
the  demon  to  drive  her  from  paradise  in  God's  name,  but 
not  the  serpent  to  entice  her  in  the  devil's  name  to  sin." 

She  paused,  and,  panting  for  breath,  sunk  back  upon 
the  cushion;  but  her  father's  hand  was  laid  upon  her 
shoulder  with  a  convulsive  grip,  and  pale  with  rage  and 
with  eyes  flashing  with  anger,  he  stared  at  her. 

A  cry  of  terror  burst  from  Lady  Jane.  She,  who  never 
had  seen  her  father  but  smiling  and  full  of  kindness, 
scarcely  recognized  that  countenance,  distorted  with  rage. 
She  could  scarcely  convince  herself  that  this  man,  with 


IIKMIY    VFII.     AM)    MIS 

eyes  darting  fire,  scowling  eyebrows  and  lips  quivering 
with  rage,  was  really  her  father. 

"You  will  not?"  exclaimed  he,  with  a  hollow,  threat- 
ening voice.  "  You  dare  rebel  against  the  holy  commands 
of  the  Church?  Have  you,  then,  forgotten  what  you  prom- 
ised to  the  Holy  Fathers,  whose  pupil  you  are?  Have  you 
forgotten  that  the  brothers  and  sisters  of  the  Holy  League 
are  permitted  to  have  no  other  will  than  that  of  their 
masters!  Have  you  forgotten  the  sublime  vow  which  ym 
made  to  our  master,  Ignatius  Loyola?  Answer  me,  un- 
faithful and  disobedient  daughter  of  the  Church!  Repeat 
to  me  the  oath  which  you  took  when  he  received  you  into 
the  holy  Society  of  the  Disciples  of  Jesus!  Repeat  your 
oath,  I  say! " 

As  if  constrained  by  an  invisible  power,  Jane  had 
arisen,  and  now  stood,  her  hands  folded  across  her  breast, 
submissive  and  trembling  before  her  father,  whose  erect, 
proud,  and  wrathful  form  towered  above  her. 

"  I  have  sworn,"  said  she,  "  to  subject  my  own  thought, 
and  will,  my  life,  and  endeavors,  obediently  to  the  will  of 
the  Holy  Father.  I  have  sworn  to  be  a  blind  tool  in  the 
hands  of  my  masters,  and  to  do  only  what  they  command 
and  enjoin.  I  have  vowed  to  serve  the  holy  Church,  in 
which  alone  is  salvation,  in  every  way  and  with  all  the 
means  at  my  command;  and  I  will  despise  none  of  these 
means,  consider  none  trifling,  disdain  none,  provided  it 
leads  to  the  end.  For  the  end  sanctifies  the  means,  and 
nothing  is  a  sin  which  is  done  for  the  honor  of  God  and 
the  Church! " 

"Ad  majorem  Dei  gloriam!  "  said  her  father,  devoutly 
folding  his  hands.  "  And  you  know  what  awaits  you,  if 
you  violate  your  oath  ?  " 

"  Earthly  disgrace  and  eternal  destruction  await  me. 
The  curse  of  all  my  brethren  and  sisters  awaits  me — eter- 
nal damnation  and  punishment.  With  thousands  of  tor- 
ments and  tort urc-  nf  the  raek,  will  the  Holy  Fathers  put 
me  to  death;  and  as  they  kill  my  body  and  throw  it  as 


HENRY   VIII.   AND  HIS  COURT.  83 

to  the  beasts  of  prey,  they  will  curse  my  soul  and  deliver 
it  over  to  purgatory." 

"  And  what  awaits  you  if  you  remain  faithful  to  your 
oath,  and  obey  the  commands  given  you?  " 

"  Honor  and  glory  on  earth,  besides  eternal  blessedness 
in  heaven." 

"  Then  you  will  be  a  queen  on  earth  and  r  •  on  in 
heaven.  You  know,  then,  the  sacred  laws  of  the  society, 
and  you  remember  your  oath?  " 

"  I  remember  it." 

"  And  you  know  that  the  holy  Loyola,  before  he  left  us, 
gave  the  Society  of  Jesus,  in  England,  a  master  and  gen- 
eral, whom  all  the  brethren  and  sisters  must  serve  and  sub- 
mit to,  to  whom  they  owe  blind  obedience  and  service  with- 
out questioning?  " 

"  I  know  it." 

"  And  you  know,  likewise,  by  what  sign  the  associates 
may  recognize  the  general  ?  " 

"  By  Loyola's  ring,  which  he  wears  on  the  forefinger  of 
his  right  hand." 

"  Behold  here  this  ring! "  said  the  earl,  drawing  his 
hand  out  of  his  doublet. 

Lady  Jane  uttered  a  cry,  and  sank  almost  senseless  at 
his  feet. 

Lord  Douglas,  smiling  graciously,  raised  her  in  his 
arms.  "  You  see,  Jane,  I  am  not  merely  your  father,  but 
your  master  also.  And  you  will  obey  me,  will  you  not?  " 

"  I  will  obey!  "  said  she,  almost  inaudibly,  as  she  kissed 
the  hand  with  the  fatal  ring. 

"  You  will  be  to  Catharine  Parr,  as  you  have  expressed 
it,  the  serpent,  that  seduces  her  to  sin?  " 

"  I  will." 

"  You  will  beguile  her  into  sin,  and  entice  her  to  in- 
dulge a  love  which  must  lead  her  to  destruction?  " 

"  I  will  do  it,  my  father." 

"  I  will  now  tell  you  whom  she  is  to  love,  and  who  is 
to  be  the  instrument  of  destruction.  You  will  so  man- 


S±  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

age  the  queen  that  she  will  love  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of 
Surrey." 

Jane  uttered  a  scream,  and  clung  to  the  back  of  a  chair 
to  keep  from  falling. 

Her  father  observed  her  with  penetrating,  angry  looks. 
"  What  -  'cans  this  outcry?  Why  does  this  choice  surprise 
you'  ced  he. 

Lady  Jane  had  already  gained  her  self-possession.  "  It 
surprised  me,"  said  she,  "  because  the  earl  is  betrothed." 

A  singular  smile  played  about  the  earl's  lips.  "It  is 
not  the  first  time,"  said  he,  "  that  even  a  man  already  mar- 
ried has  become  dangerous  to  a  woman's  heart,  and  often 
the  very  impossibility  of  possession  adds  fuel  to  the  flames 
of  love.  Woman's  heart  is  ever  so  full  of  selfishness  and 
contradiction." 

Lady  Jane  cast  down  her  eyes,  and  made  no  reply. 
She  felt  that  the  piercing  and  penetrating  look  of  her  fa- 
ther was  resting  on  her  face.  She  knew  that,  just  then, 
he  was  reading  her  soul,  although  she  did  not  look  at  him. 

"Then  you  no  longer  refuse?"  asked  he,  at  length. 
"  You  will  inspire  the  young  queen  with  love  for  the  Earl 
of  Surrey?" 

"  I  will  endeavor  to  do  it,  my  father." 

"  If  you  try,  with  a  real  and  energetic  determination  to 
succeed,  you  will  prevail.  For,  as  you  said,  the  queen's 
heart  is  still  free;  it  is,  then,  like  a  fruitful  soil,  which  is 
only  waiting  for  some  one  to  sow  the  seed  in  it,  to  bring 
forth  flowers  and  fruit.  Catharine  Parr  does  not  love  the 
king;  you  will,  then,  teach  her  to  love  Henry  Howard." 

"  Yet,  my  father,"  said  Lady  Jane,  with  a  sarcastic 
smile,  "  to  bring  about  this  result,  one  must,  before  all 
things,  be  acquainted  with  a  magic  spell,  through  the 
might  of  which  the  earl  will  first  glow  with  love  for  Cath- 
arine. 1'nr  Ihe  queen  has  a  proud  soul,  and  she  will  never 
so  forget  her  dignity  as  to  love  a  man  who  is  not  inflamed 
with  an  ardent  passion  for  her.  But  the  earl  has  not 
only  a  bride,  but,  as  it  is  said,  a  mistress  also." 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  85 

"  Ah!  you  consider  it,  then,  perfectly  unworthy  of  a 
woman  to  love  a  man  who  does  not  adore  her?  "  asked  the 
earl,  in  a  significant  tone.  "  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  this 
from  my  daughter,  and  thus  to  be  certain  that  she  will 
not  fall  in  love  with  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  who  is  every- 
where else  called  '  the  lady-killer.'  And  if  you  have  in- 
formed yourself  in  so  surprising  a  manner  as  to  the  earl's 
private  relations,  you  have  done  so,  without  doubt,  only 
because  your  sagacious  and  subtle  head  has  already  guessed 
what  commission  I  would  give  you  with  respect  to  the  earl. 
Besides,  my  daughter,  you  are  in  error:  and  if  a  certain 
high,  but  not  on  that  account  the  less  very  unfortunate 
lady,  should  happen  to  really  love  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  her 
lot  will,  perhaps,  be  the  common  one — to  practise  resigna- 
tion." 

An  expression  of  joyful  surprise  passed  over  the 
countenance  of  Lady  Jane,  while  her  father  thus  spoke; 
but  it  was  forced  to  instantly  give  way  to  a  deathly  pale- 
ness, as  the  earl  added:  "Henry  Howard  is  destined  for 
Catharine  Parr,  and  you  are  to  help  her  to  love  so  hotly 
this  proud,  handsome  earl,  who  is  a  faithful  servant  of  the 
Church,  wherein  alone  is  salvation,  that  she  will  forget  all 
considerations  and  all  dangers." 

Lady  Jane  ventured  one  more  objection.  She  caught 
eagerly  at  her  father's  words,  to  seek  still  for  some  way 
of  escape. 

"  You  call  the  earl  a  faithful  servant  of  our  Church," 
said  she,  "  and  yet  you  would  implicate  him  also  in  your 
dangerous  plot?  You  have  not,  then,  my  father,  consid- 
ered that  it  is  just  as  pernicious  to  love  the  queen  as  to 
be  loved  by  her?  And,  without  doubt,  if  love  for  the  Earl 
of  Surrey  bring  the  queen  to  the  scaffold,  the  head  of 
the  earl  will  fall  at  the  same  time,  no  matter  whether  he 
return  her  love  or  not." 

The  earl  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  When  the  question  is  about  the  weal  of  the  Church 
and  our  holy  religion,  the  danger  which,  thereby,  it  may 


Si)  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COUIIT. 

be,  threatens  one  of  our  number,  must  not  frighten  us 
back.  Holy  sacrifices  must  be  always  offered  to  a  holy 
cause.  Well  and  good,  then,  let  the  earFs  head  fall,  pro- 
vided the  only  saving  Church  gains  new  vigor  from  this 
blood  of  martyrs.  But  see,  Jane,  the  morning  already  be- 
gins to  dawn,  and  I  must  hasten  to  leave  you,  lest  these 
courtiers,  ever  given  to  slandering,  may  in  some  way  or 
other  take  the  father  for  a  lover,  and  cast  suspicion  on 
the  immaculate  virtue  of  my  Jane.  Farewell,  then,  my 
daughter!  We  both,  now,  know  our  roles,  and  will  take- 
care  to  play  them  with  success.  You  are  the  friend  and 
confidante  of  the  queen,  and  I  the  harmless  courtier,  who 
tries,  now  and  then,  to  gain  a  smile  from  the  king  by  some 
kind  and  merry  jest.  That  is  all.  Good-morning,  then, 
Jane,  and  good-night.  For  you  must  sleep,  my  child,  so 
that  your  cheeks  may  remain  fresh  and  your  eyes  bright. 
The  king  hates  pining  pale-faces.  Sleep,  then,  future 
Queen  of  England !  " 

He  gently  kissed  her  forehead,  and  left  the  room  with 
lingering  step. 

Lady  Jane  stood  and  listened  to  the  sound  of  his  foot- 
steps gradually  dying  away,  when  she  sank  on  her  knees, 
wholly  crushed,  utterly  stunned. 

"  My  God,  my  God! "  murmured  she,  while  streams  of 
tears  flooded  her  face,  "  and  I  am  to  inspire  the  queen  with 
love  for  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  and  I — I  love  him!"*' 


CHAPTER   IX. 

LENDEMAIN. 


THE  great  levee  was  over.  Sitting  beside  the  king  on 
the  throne,  Catharine  had  received  the  congratulations  of 
her  court;  and  the  king'i  smiling  look,  and  the  tender 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  87 

words  which,  in  undertone,  he  iio\v  and  then  addressed  to 
the  queen,  had  manifested  to  the  prudent  and  expert  cour- 
tiers that  the  king  was  to-day  just  as  much  enamored  of 
his  young  consort  as  he  had  been  yesterday  of  his  bride. 
Therefore,  every  one  exerted  himself  to  please  the  queen, 
and  to  catch  every  look,  every  smile,  which  she  let  fall, 
like  sunbeams,  here  and  there,  in  order  to  see  for  whom 
they  were  intended,  so  that  they  might,  perchance,  by 
this  means,  divine  who  were  to  be  the  future  favorites 
of  the  queen,  and  be  the  first  to  become  intimate  with 
them. 

But  the  young  queen  directed  her  looks  to  no  one  in 
particular.  She  was  friendly  and  smiling,  yet  one  felt 
that  this  friendliness  was  constrained,  this  smile  full  of 
sadness.  The  king  alone  did  not  notice  it.  He  was  cheer- 
ful and  happy,  and  it  seemed  to  him,  therefore,  that  no- 
body at  his  court  could  dare  sigh  when  he,  the  king,  was 
satisfied. 

After  the  grand  presentation,  at  which  all  the  great 
and  noble  of  the  realm  had  passed  in  formal  procession  be- 
fore the  royal  pair,  the  king  had,  according  to  the  court 
etiquette  of  the  time,  given  his  hand  to  his  consort,  led  her 
down  from  the  throne  and  conducted  her  to  the  middle  of 
the  hall,  in  order  to  present  to  her  the  personages  in  wait- 
ing at  her  court. 

But  this  walk  from  the  throne  to  the  centre  of  the  hall 
had  greatly  fatigued  the  king;  this  promenade  of  thirty 
steps  was  for  him  a  very  unusual  and  troublesome  perform- 
ance, and  the  king  longed  to  change  to  something  else 
more  agreeable.  So  he  beckoned  to  the  chief  master  of 
ceremonies,  and  bade  him  open  the  door  leading  into  the 
dining-room.  Then  he  ordered  his  "  house  equipage  "  to 
l>e  brought  up,  and,  seating  himself  in  it  with  the  utmost 
stateliness,  he  had  the  sedan  kept  at  the  queen's  side, 
waiting  impatiently  till  the  presentation  should  at  last 
conclude,  and  Catharine  accompany  him  to  lunch. 

The  announcements  of  the  maids  of  honor  and  female 


$8  HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

attendants  had  been  already  made,  and  now  came  the  gen- 
tlemen's turn. 

The  chief  master  of  ceremonies  read  from  his  list  the 
names  of  those  cavaliers  who  were,  henceforth,  to  be  in 
waiting  near  the  queen,  and  which  names  the  king  had 
written  down  with  his  own  hand.  And  at  each  new  ap- 
pointment a  slight  expression  of  pleased  astonishment 
flitted  across  the  faces  of  the  assembled  courtiers,  for  it  was 
always  one  of  the  youngest,  handsomest,  and  most  amiable 
lords  whom  the  master  of  ceremonies  had  to  name. 

Perhaps  the  king  proposed  to  play  a  cruel  game  at 
hazard,  in  surrounding  his  consort  with  the  young  men 
of  his  court;  he  wished  to  plunge  her  into  the  midst  of 
danger,  either  to  let  her  perish  there,  or,  by  her  avoiding 
danger,  to  be  able  to  place  the  unimpeachable  virtue  of 
his  young  wife  in  the  clearest  light. 

The  list  had  begun  with  the  less  important  offices, 
and,  ever  ascending  higher,  they  now  came  to  positions  the 
highest  and  of  greatest  consequence. 

Still  the  queen's  master  of  horse  and  the  chamberlain 
had  not  been  named,  and  these  were  without  doubt  the 
most  important  charges  at  the  queen's  court.  For  one  or 
the  other  of  these  officers  was  always  very  near  the  queen. 
When  she  was  in  the  palace,  the  lord  of  the  chamber  had 
to  remain  in  the  anteroom,  and  no  one  could  approach  the 
queen  but  through  his  mediation.  To  him  the  queen  had 
to  give  her  orders  with  regard  to  the  schemes  and  pleasures 
of  the  day.  He  was  to  contrive  new  diversions  and  amuse- 
ments. He  had  the  right  of  joining  the  queen's  narrow 
evening  circle,  and  to  stand  behind  the  queen's  chair  when 
the  royal  pair,  at  times,  desired  to  sup  without  ceremony. 

This  place  of  chief  chamberlain  was,  therefore,  a  very 
important  one;  for  since  it  confined  him  a  large  part  of 
the  day  in  the  queen's  presence,  it  was  scarcely  avoidable 
that  the  lord  chamberlain  should  become  either  the  confi- 
dential and  attentive  friend,  or  the  malevolent  and  lurk- 
ing enemy  of  the  queen! 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  gy 

But  the  place  of  master  of  horse  was  of  no  less  conse- 
quence. For  as  soon  as  the  queen  left  the  palace,  whether 
on  foot  or  in  a  carriage,  whether  to  ride  in  the  forest  or  to 
glide  down  the  Thames  in  her  gilded  yacht,  the  master  of 
horse  must  be  ever  at  her  side,  must  ever  attend  her.  In- 
deed, this  service  was  still  more  exclusive,  still  more  impor- 
tant. For,  though  the  queen's  apartments  were  open  to 
the  lord  chamberlain,  yet,  however,  he  was  never  alone 
with  her.  The  attending  maids  of  honor  were  always 
present  and  prevented  there  being  any  tetes-a-tetes  or  in- 
timacy between  the  queen  and  her  chamberlain. 

But  with  the  master  of  horse  it  was  different — since 
many  opportunities  presented  themselves,  when  he  could 
approach  the  queen  unnoticed,  or  at  least  speak  to  her 
without  being  overheard.  He  had  to  offer  her  his  hand  to 
assist  her  in  entering  her  carriage;  he  could  ride  near  the 
door  of  her  coach;  he  accompanied  her  on  water  excur- 
sions and  pleasure  rides,  and  these  last  were  so  much  the 
more  important  because  they  afforded  him,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, opportunity  for  a  tete-a-tete  with  the  queen.  For 
only  the  master  of  horse  was  permitted  to  ride  at  her 
side;  he  even  had  precedence  of  the  ladies  of  the  suite,  so 
as  to  be  able  to  give  the  queen  immediate  assistance  in 
case  of  any  accident,  or  the  stumbling  of  her  horse. 
Therefore,  no  one  of  the  suite  could  perceive  what  the 
queen  said  to  the  master  of  horse  when  he  rode  at  her 
side. 

It  was  understood,  therefore,  how  influential  this  place 
might  be.  Besides,  when  the  queen  was  at  Whitehall,  the 
king  was  almost  always  near  her;  while,  thanks  to  his 
daily  increasing  corpulency,  he  was  not  exactly  in  a  condi- 
tion to  leave  the  palace  otherwise  than  in  a  carriage. 

It  was  therefore  very  natural  that  the  whole  company 
at  court  awaited  with  eager  attention  and  bated  breath 
the  moment  when  "the  master  of  ceremonies  would  name 
these  two  important  personages,  whose  names  had  been 
kept  so  secret  that  nobody  had  yet  learned  them.  That 


9o  nnxuY  vin.  AND  ins  COUIIT. 

morning,  just  before  he  handed  the  list  to  the  master  of 
ceremonies,  the  king  had  written  down  these  two  nanu-.s 
with  his  own  ha  ml. 

Not  the  court  only,  but  also  the  king  himself,  was 
watching  for  these  two  names.  For  he  wished  to  see  the 
effect  of  them,  and,  by  the  different  expression  of  faces, 
estimate  the  number  of  the  friends  of  these  two  nominees. 
The  young  queen  alone  exhibited  the  same  unconcerned 
affability;  her  heart  only  beat  with  uniform  calmness,  for 
she  did  not  once  suspect  the  importance  of  the  moment. 

Even  the  voice  of  the  master  of  ceremonies  trembled 
slightly,  as  he  now  read,  "  To  the  place  of  high  chamber- 
lain to  the  queen,  his  majesty  appoints  my  Lord  Henry 
Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey." 

An  approving  murmur  was  heard,  and  almost  all  faces 
manifested  glad  surprise. 

"  He  has  a  great  many  friends,"  muttered  the  king. 
"He  is  dangerous,  then! "  An  angry  look  darted  from  his 
eyes  upon  the  young  earl,  who  was  now  approaching  the 
queen,  to  bend  his  knee  before  her  and  to  press  to  his  lips 
the  proffered  hand. 

Behind  the  queen  stood  Lady  Jane,  and  as  she  beheld 
thus  close  before  her  the  young  man,  so  handsome,  so  long 
yearned  for,  and  so  secretly  adored;  and  as  she  thought  of 
her  oath,  she  felt  a  violent  pang,  raging  jealousy,  killing 
hatred  toward  the  young  queen,  who  had,  it  is  true,  with- 
out suspecting  it,  robbed  her  of  the  loved  one,  and  con- 
demned her  to  the  terrible  torture  of  pandering  to  her. 

The  chief  master  of  ceremonies  now  read  in  a  loud  sol- 
emn voice,  "  To  the  place  of  master  of  horse,  his  majesty 
appoints  my  Lord  Thomas  Seymour,  Earl  of  Sudley." 

It  was  very  well  that  the  king  had  at  that  moment  di- 
rected his  whole  attention  to  his  courtiers,  and  sought  to 
read  in  their  appearance  the  impression  made  by  this  nomi- 
nation. 

Had  he  observed  his  consort,  he  would  have  seen  that 
an  expression  of  delighted  surprise  flitted  across  Cath- 


HENKY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  91 

arine's  countenance,  and  a  charming  smile  played  round 
her  lips. 

But  the  king,  as  we  have  said,  thought  only  of  his 
court;  he  saw  only  that  the  number  of  those  who  rejoiced 
at  Seymour's  appointment  did  not  come  up  to  that  of  those 
who  received  Surrey's  nomination  with  so  much  applause. 

Henry  frowned  and  muttered  to  himself,  "  These  How- 
ards are  too  powerful.  I  will  keep  a  watchful  eye  upon 
them." 

Thomas  Seymour  approached  the  queen,  and,  bending 
his  knee  before  her,  kissed  her  hand.  Catharine  received 
him  with  a  gracious  smile.  "  My  lord,"  said  she,  "  you  will 
at  once  enter  on  service  with  me,  and  indeed,  as  I  hope,  in 
such  manner  as  will  be  acceptable  to  the  whole  court.  My 
lord,  take  the  fleetest  of  your  coursers,  and  hasten  to 
Castle  Holt,  where  the  Princess  Elizabeth  is  staying. 
Carry  her  this  letter  from  her  royal  father,  and  she  will 
follow  you  hither.  Tell  her  that  I  long  to  embrace  in  her 
a  friend  and  sister,  and  that  I  pray  her  to  pardon  me  if  I 
cannot  give  up  to  her  exclusively  the  heart  of  her  king 
and  father,  but  that  I  also  must  still  keep  a  place  in  the 
same  for  myself.  Hasten  to  Castle  Holt,  my  lord,  and 
bring  us  Princess  Elizabeth." 


CHAPTEE    X. 

THE    KING'S    FOOL. 


Two  years  had  passed  away  since  the  king's  marriage, 
and  still  Catharine  Parr  had  always  kept  in  favor  with  her 
husband;  still  her  enemies  were  foiled  in  their  attempts 
to  ruin  her,  and  raise  the  seventh  queen  to  the  throne. 

Catharine  had  ever  been  cautious,  ever  discreet.  She 
had  always  preserved  a  cold  heart  and  a  cool  head.  Each 


02  IIKNUY   vin.  AND  HIS  COIUT. 

morning  she  liail  said  to  herself  that  this  day  might  be  her 
last;  that  some  incautious  word,  some  inconsiderate  act, 
might  deprive  her  of  her  crown  and  her  life.  For  Henry's 
savage  and  cruel  disposition  seemed,  like  his  corpulency,  to 
increase  daily,  and  it  needed  only  a  trifle  to  inflame  him 
to  the  highest  pitch  of  rage — rage  which,  each  time,  fell 
with  fatal  stroke  on  him  who  aroused  it. 

A  knowledge  and  consciousness  of  this  had  made  the 
queen  cautious.  She  did  not  wish  to  die  yet.  She  still 
loved  life  so  much.  She  loved  it  because  it  had  as  yet 
afforded  her  so  little  delight.  She  loved  it  because  she 
had  so  much  happiness,  so  much  rapture  and  enjoyment 
yet  to  hope  from  it.  She  did  not  wish  to  die  yet,  for  she 
was  ever  waiting  for  that  life  of  which  she  had  a  fore- 
taste only  in  her  dreams,  and  which  her  palpitating  and 
swelling  heart  told  her  was  ready  to  awake  in  her,  and, 
with  its  sunny,  brillicint  eyes,  arouse  her  from  the  winter 
sleep  of  her  existence. 

It  was  a  bright  and  beautiful  spring  day.  Catharine 
wanted  to  avail  herself  of  it,  to  take  a  ride  and  forget  for 
one  brief  hour  that  she  was  a  queen.  She  wanted  to  enjoy 
the  woods,  the  sweet  May  breeze,  the  song  of  birds,  the 
green  meadows,  and  to  inhale  in  full  draughts  the  pure  air. 

She  wanted  to  ride.  Xobody  suspected  how  much 
secret  ileli^ht  and  hidden  rapture  lay  in  these  words.  N<> 
one  suspected  that  for  months  she  had  been  looking  for- 
ward with  pleasure  to  this  ride,  and  scarcely  dared  to  wish 
for  it,  just  because  it  would  be  the  fulfilment  of  her  ardent 
wishes. 

She  was  already  dressed  in  her  riding-habit,  and  the 
little  red  velvet  hat,  with  its  long,  drooping  white  feather, 
adorned  her  beautiful  head.  Walking  up  and  down  the 
room,  she  was  waiting  only  for  the  return  of  the  lord 
-  hamberlain,  whom  she  had  sent  to  the  king  to  inquire 
whether  he  wished  to  speak  with  her  before  her  ride. 

Suddenly  the  door  opened,  and  a  strange  apparition 
showed  itself  on  the  threshold.  It  was  a  small,  compact 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  93 

masculine  figure,  clad  in  vesture  of  crimson  silk,  which  was 
trimmed  in  a  style  showy  and  motley  enough,  with 
puffs  and  bows  of  all  colors,  and  which,  just  on  account 
of  its  motley  appearance,  contrasted  strangely  enough 
with  the  man's  white  hair,  and  earnest  and  sombre 
face. 

"Ah,  the  king's  fool,"  said  Catharine,  with  a  merry 
laugh.  "Well,  John,  what  is  it  that  brings  you  here? 
Do  you  bring  me  a  message  from  the  king,  or  have  you 
made  a  bold  hit,  and  wish  me  to  take  you  again  under  my 
protection  ?  " 

"  No,  queen,"  said  John  Heywood,  seriously,  "  I  have 
made  no  bold  hit,  nor  do  I  bring  a  message  from  the  king. 
I  bring  nothing  but  myself.  Ah,  queen,  I  see  you  want  to 
laugh,  but  I  pray  you  forget  for  a  moment  that  John  Hey- 
wood is  the  king's  fool,  and  that  it  does  not  become  him  to 
wear  a  serious  face  and  indulge  sad  thoughts  like  other 
men." 

"  Oh,  I  know  that  you  are  not  merely  the  king's 
fool,  but  a  poet  also,"  said  Catharine,  with  a  gracious 
smile. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  I  am  a  poet,  and  therefore  it  is  alto- 
gether proper  for  me  to  wear  this  fool's  cap,  for  poets  are 
all  fools,  and  it  were  better  for  them  to  be  hung  on  the 
nearest  tree  instead  of  being  permitted  to  run  about  in 
their  crazy  enthusiasm,  and  babble  things  on  account  of 
which  people  of  sense  despise  and  ridicule  them.  I  am  a 
poet,  and  therefore,  queen,  I  have  put  on  this  fool's  dress, 
which  places  me  under  the  king's  protection,  and  allows 
me  to  say  to  him  all  sorts  of  things  which  nobody  else  has 
the  courage  to  speak  out.  But  to-day,  queen,  I  come  to 
you  neither  as  a  fool  nor  as  a  poet,  but  I  come  to  you  be- 
cause I  wish  to  cling  to  your  knees  and  kiss  your  feet.  I 
come  because  I  wish  to  tell  you  that  you  have  made  John 
Heywood  forever  your  slave.  He  will  from  this  time  forth 
lie  like  a  dog  before  your  threshold  and  guard  you  from 
every  enemy  and  every  evil  which  may  press  upon  you 


[)±  HENRY   VTII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

Night  and  day  he  will  be  ready  for  your  service,  and  know 
neither  repose  nor  rest,  if  it  is  necessary  to  fulfil  your 
command  or  your  wish/' 

As  he  thus  spoke,  with  trembling  voice  and  eyes 
dimmed  with  tears,  he  knelt  down  and  bowed  his  head  at 
Catharine's  feet. 

"  But  what  have  I  done  .to  inspire  you  with  such  a  feel- 
ing of  thankfulness?  "  asked  Catharine  with  astonishment. 
"  How  have  I  deserved  that  you,  the  powerful  and  univer- 
sally dreaded  favorite  of  the  king,  should  dedicate  yourself 
to  my  service?" 

""What  have  you  done?"  said  he.  "My  lady,  you 
have  saved  my  son  from  the  stake!  They  had  condemned 
him — that  handsome  noble  youth — condemned  him,  be- 
cause he  had  spoken  respectfully  of  Thomas  More;  because 
he  said  this  great  and  noble  man  did  right  to  die,  rather 
than  be  false  to  his  convictions.  Ah,  nowadays,  it  requires 
such  a  trifle  to  condemn  a  man  to  death!  a  couple  of 
thoughtless  words  are  sufficient!  And  this  miserable,  lick- 
spittle Parliament,  in  its  dastardliness  and  worthlessness, 
always  condemns  and  sentences,  because  it  knows  that  the 
king  is  always  thirsty  for  blood,  and  always  wants  the  fires 
of  the  stake  to  keep  him  warm.  So  they  had  condemned 
my  son  likewise,  and  they  would  have  executed  him,  but 
for  you.  But  you,  whom  God  has  sent  as  an  angel  of 
reconciliation  on  this  regal  throne  reeking  with  blood; 
you  who  daily  risk  your  life  and  your  crown  to  save  the 
life  of  some  one  of  those  unfortunates  whom  fanaticism 
and  thirst  for  blood  have  sentenced,  and  to  procure  their 
pardon,  you  have  save  my  son  also." 

"  How !  that  young  man  who  was  to  be  burned  yester- 
day, was  your  son  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  was  my  son." 

"  And  you  did  not  tell  the  king  so?  and  you  did  not 
intercede  for  him?  " 

"  Had  I  done  so,  he  would  have  been  irretrievably  lost! 
For  you  well  know  the  king  is  so  proud  of  his  impar- 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  95 

tiality  and  his  virtue!  Oh,  had  he  known  that  Thomas  is 
my  son  he  would  have  condemned  him  to  death,  to  show 
the  people  that  Henry  the  Eighth  everywhere  strikes  the 
guilty  and  punishes  the  sinner,  whatever  name  he  may 
bear,  and  whoever  may  intercede  for  him.  Ah,  even  your 
supplication  would  not  have  softened  him,  for  the  high- 
priest  of  the  English  Church  could  never  have  pardoned 
this  young  man  for  not  being  the  legitimate  son  of  his  fa- 
ther, for  not  having  the  right  to  bear  his  name,  because 
his  mother  was  the  spouse  of  another  man  whom  Thomas 
must  call  father." 

"Poor  Hey  wood!  Yes,  now  I  understand.  The  king 
would,  indeed,  never  have  forgiven  this;  and  had  he 
known  it,  your  son  would  have  inevitably  been  condemned 
to  the  stake." 

"  You  saved  him,  queen!  Do  you  not  believe  now  that 
I  shall  be  forever  thankful  to  you?  " 

"  I  do  believe  it,"  said  the  queen,  with  a  pleasant  smile, 
as  she  extended  her  hand  for  him  to  kiss.  "  I  believe  you, 
and  I  accept  your  service." 

"  And  you  will  need  it,  queen,  for  a  tempest  is  gather- 
ing over  your  head,  and  soon  the  lightning  will  flash  and 
the  thunders  roll." 

"  Oh,  I  fear  not!  I  have  strong  nerves!  "  said  Catha- 
rine, smiling.  "  When  a  storm  comes,  it  is  but  a  refresh- 
ing of  nature,  and  I  have  always  seen  that  after  a  storm 
the  sun  shines  again." 

"  You  are  a  brave  soul!  "  said  John  Hey  wood,  sadly. 

"  That  is,  I  am  conscious  of  no  guilt!  " 

"  But  your  enemies  will  invent  a  crime  to  charge  you 
with.  Ah,  as  soon  as  it  is  the  aim  to  calumniate  a  neigh- 
bor and  plunge  him  in  misery,  men  are  all  poets! " 

"  But  you  just  now  said  that  poets  are  crack-brained, 
and  should  be  hung  to  the  first  tree.  We  will,  therefore, 
treat  these  slanderers  as  poets,  that  is  all." 

"No,  that  is  not  all!"  said  John  Heywoo.d,  energeti- 
cally. "For  slanderers  are  like  earth-worms-  You  cut 


96  1IKNKY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COl'UT. 

them  in  pieces,  but  instead  of  thereby  killing  them,  you 
multiply  each  one  and  give  it  several  he;ul-." 

"  But  what  is  it,  then,  that  I  am  accused  of? "  ex- 
claimed Catharine,  impatiently.  "  Does  not  my  life  lie 
open  and  clear  before  you  all?  Do  I  ever  take  pains  to 
have  any  secrets?  Is  not  my  heart  like  a  glass  house,  into 
which  you  can  all  look,  to  convince  yourselves  that  it  is  a 
soil  wholly  unfruitful,  and  that  not  a  single  poor  little 
flower  grows  there?  " 

"  Though  this  be  so,  your  enemies  will  sow  weeds  and 
make  the  king  believe  that  it  is  burning  love  which  h:is 
grown  up  in  your  heart." 

"  How!  They  will  accuse  me  of  having  a  love-affair?  " 
asked  Catharine,  and  her  lips  slightly  trembled. 

"  I  do  not  know  their  plans  yet;  but  I  will  find  them 
out.  There  is  a  conspiracy  at  work.  Therefore,  queen, 
be  on  your  guard!  Trust  nobody,  for  foes  are  ever  wont 
to  conceal  themselves  under  hypocritical  faces  and  deceiv- 
ing words." 

"If  you  know  my  enemies,  name  them  to  me!"  said 
( 'atharine,  impatiently.  "  Name  them  to  me,  that  I  may 
beware  of  them." 

"  I  have  not  come  to  accuse  anybody,  but  to  warn  you. 
I  shall,  therefore,  take  good  care  not  to  point  out  your  ene- 
mies to  you;  but  I  will  name  your  friends  to  you." 

"  Ah,  then,  I  have  friends,  too!  "  whispered  Catharine, 
with  a  happy  smile. 

"  Yes,  you  have  friends;  and,  indeed,  such  as  are  ready 
to  give  their  blood  and  life  for  you." 

"Oh,  name  them,  name  them  to  me!"  exclaimed 
Catharine,  all  of  a  tremble  with  joyful  expectation. 

"  I  name  first,  Cranmer,  archbishop  of  Canterbury. 
He  is  your  true  and  staunch  friend,  on  whom  you  can  build. 
He  loves  you  as  queen,  and  he  prizes  you  as  the  associate 
whom  God  has  sent  him  to  bring  to  completion,  here  at 
the  court  of  .this  most  Christian  and  bloody  king,  the  holy 
\rork  of  the  Reformation,  and  to  cause  the  liL'lit  of  knowl- 


lll'NRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  97 

edge  to  illuminate  this  night  of  superstition  and  priestly 
domination.  Build  strongly  on  Cranmer,  for  he  is  your 
surest  and  most  invariable  supporter,  and  should  he  sink, 
your  fall  would  inevitably  follow.  Therefore,  not  only 
rely  on  him,  but  also  protect  him,  and  look  upon  him  as 
your  brother;  for  what  you  do  for  him,  you  do  for  your- 
self." 

*'  Yes,  you  are  right,"  said  Catharine,  thoughtfully. 
"Cranmer  is  a  noble  and  staunch  friend;  and  often 
enough  already  he  has  protected  me,  in  the  king's  pres- 
ence, against  those  little  pin-prickings  of  my  enemies, 
which  do  not  indeed  kill,  but  which  make  the  whole  body 
sore  and  faint." 

"  Protect  him,  and  thus  protect  yourself/' 

"  Well,  and  the  other  friends?  " 

"I  have  given  Cranmer  the  precedence;  but  now, 
queen,  I  name  myself  as  the  second  of  your  friends.  If 
Cranmer  is  your  staff,  I  will  be  your  dog;  and,  believe  me, 
so  long  as  you  have  such  a  staff  and  so  faithful  a  dog,  you 
are  safe.  Cranmer  will  warn  you  of  every  stone  that  lies 
in  your  way,  and  I  will  bite  and  drive  off  the  enemies,  who, 
hidden  behind  the  thicket,  lurk  in  the  way  to  fall  upon 
you  from  behind." 

"  I  thank  you!  Really,  I  thank  you! "  said  Catharine, 
heartily.  "  Well,  and  what  more  ?  " 

"More?"  inquired  Hey  wood  with  a  sad  smile. 

"  Mention  a  few  more  of  my  friends." 

"  Queen,  it  ig  a  great  deal,  if  one  in  a  lifetime  has 
found  two  friends  upon  whom  he  can  rely,  and  whose  fidel- 
ity is  not  guided  by  selfishness.  You  are  perhaps  the  only 
crowned  head  that  can  boast  of  such  friends." 

"  I  am  a  woman,"  said  Catharine,  thoughtfully,  "  and 
many  women  surround  me  and  daily  swear  to  me  unchang- 
ing faithfulness  and  attachment.  How!  are  all  these  un- 
worthy the  title  of  friends?  Is  even  Lady  Jane  Douglas 
unworthy;  she,  whom  I  have  called  my  friend  these  many 
long  years,  and  whom  I  trust  as  a  sister?  Tell  me.  John 


08  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

Heywood,  you  who,  as  it  is  said,  know  everything,  and 
search  out  everything  that  takes  place  at  court,  tell  me,  is 
not  Lady  Jane  Douglas  my  friend  ?  " 

John  Heywood  suddenly  became  serious  and  gloomy, 
and  looked  on  the  ground,  absorbed  in  reflection.  Then 
he  swept  his  large,  bright  eyes  all  around  the  room,  in  a 
scrutinizing  manner,  as  if  he  wished  to  convince  himself 
that  no  listener  was  really  concealed  there,  and  stepping 
close  up  to  the  queen,  he  whispered:  "  Trust  her  not;  she 
is  a  papist,  and  Gardiner  is  her  friend." 

"  Ah,  I  suspected  it,"  whispered  Catharine,  sadly. 

"  But  listen,  queen;  give  no  expression  to  this  sus- 
picion by  look,  or  words,  or  by  the  slightest  indication. 
Lull  this  viper  into  the  belief  that  you  are  harmless;  lull 
her  to  sleep,  queen.  She  is  a  venomous  and  dangerous 
serpent,  which  must  not  be  roused,  lest,  before  you  suspect 
it,  it  bite  you  on  the  heel.  Be  always  gracious,  always  con- 
fidential, always  friendly  toward  her.  Only,  queen,  do  not 
tell  her  what  you  would  not  confide  to  Gardiner  and  Earl 
Douglas  likewise.  Oh,  believe  me,  she  is  like  the  lion 
in  the  doge's  palace  at  Venice.  The  secrets  that  you  con- 
fide to  her  will  become  accusations  against  you  before  the 
tribunal  of  blood." 

Catharine  shook  her  head  with  a  smile.  "  You  are  too 
severe,  John  Heywood.  It  is  possible  that  the  religion 
which  she  secretly  professes  has  estranged  her  heart  from 
me,  but  she  would  never  be  capable  of  betraying  me,  or  of 
leaguing  herself  with  my  foes.  No,  John,  you  are  mis- 
taken. It  would  be  a  crime  to  believe  thus.  My  God, 
what  a  wicked  and  wretched  world  it  must  be  in  which  we 
could  not  trust  even  our  most  faithful  and  dearest 
friends! " 

"  The  world  is  indeed  wicked  and  wretched,  and  one 
must  despair  of  it,  or  consider  it  a  merry  jest,  witli  which 
the  devil  tickles  our  noses.  For  me,  it  is  such  a  jest,  and 
therefore,  queen,  I  have  become  the  king's  fool,  which  at 
least  gives  me  the  right  of  spurting  out  upon  the  crawling 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  99 

brood  all  the  venom  of  the  contempt  I  feel  for  mankind, 
and  of  speaking  the  truth  to  those  who  have  only  lies,  by 
dripping  honey,  ever  on  their  lips.  The  sages  and  poets 
are  the  real  fools  of  our  day,  and  since  I  did  not  feel  a  voca- 
tion to  be  a  king,  or  a  priest,  a  hangman,  or  a  lamb  for 
sacrifice,  I  became  a  fool." 

"  Yes,  a  fool,  that  is  to  say,  an  epigrammatist,  whose 
biting  tongue  makes  the  whole  court  tremble." 

"  Since  I  cannot,  like  my  royal  master,  have  these 
criminals  executed,  I  give  them  a  few  sword-cuts  with  my 
tongue.  Ah,  I  tell  you,  you  will  much  need  this  ally.  Be 
on  your  guard,  queen:  I  heard  this  morning  the  first  growl 
of  the  thunder,  and  in  Lady  Jane's  eyes  I  observed  the 
stealthy  lightning.  Trust  her  not.  Trust  no  one  here 
but  your  friends  Cranmer  and  John  Heywood." 

"  And  you  say,  that  in  all  this  court,  among  all  these 
brilliant  women,  these  brave  cavaliers,  the  poor  queen  has 
not  a  single  friend,  not  a  soul,  whom  she  may  trust,  011 
whom  she  may  lean?  Oh,  John  Heywood,  think  again, 
have  pity  on  the  poverty  of  a  queen.  Think  again.  Say, 
only  you  two?  No  friend  but  you?  " 

And  the  queen's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  which  she  tried 
in  vain  to  repress. 

John  Heywood  saw  it  and  sighed  deeply.  Better  than 
the  queen  herself  perhaps,  he  had  read  the  depths  of  her 
heart,  and  knew  its  deep  wound.  But  he  also  had  sym- 
pathy with  her  pain,  and  wished  to  mitigate  it  a  little. 

"  I  recollect,"  said  he,  gently  and  mournfully — "  yes,  I 
recollect,  you  have  yet  a  third  friend  at  this  court." 

"  Ah,  a  third  friend!  "  exclaimed  Catharine,  and  again 
her  voice  sounded  cheery  and  joyous.  "  Name  him  to  me, 
name  him!  For  you  see  clearly  I  am  burning  with  impa- 
tience to  hear  his  name." 

John  Heywood  looked  into  Catharine's  glowing  counte- 
nance with  a  strange  expression,  at  once  searching  and 
mournful,  and  for  a  moment  dropped  his  head  upon  his 
breast  and  sighed. 


HFN'RY    MIL    AND    U1S    COURT. 

"  Now,  John,  give  me  the  name  of  this  third  friend/' 

"Do  you  not  know  him,  queen?"  asked  Heywood,  as 
he  again  stared  steadily  in  her  face.  Do  you  not  know 
him?  It  is  Thomas  Seymour,  Karl  of  Sudley." 

There  passed  as  it  were  a  sunbeam  over  Catharine's 
face,  and  she  uttered  a  low  cry. 

John  Heywood  said,  sadly:  "  Queen,  the  sun  strike- 
directly  in  your  face.  Take  care  that  it  does  not  blind 
your  bright  eyes.  Stand  in  the  shade,  your  majesty,  for, 
hark!  there  comes  one  who  might  report  the  sunshine  in 
your  face  for  a  conflagration.'' 

Just  then  the  door  opened,  and  Lady  Jane  apj>eared 
on  the  threshold.  She  threw  a  quick,  searching  glance 
around  the  room,  and  an  imperceptible  smile  paand  over 
her  beautiful  pale  face. 

"Your  majesty."  said  she  solemnly,  "everything  is 
ready.  You  can  begin  your  ride  when  it  pleases  you. 
The  Princess  Klix;ibeth  await-  \«>u  in  the  anteroom,  and 
your  master  of  horse  already  hold?  the  stirrup  of  your 
steed/' 

"And  the  lord  chamberlain?"  asked  Catharine, 
blushing,  "ha?  he  no  message  from  the  king  to  brim: 
me?" 

"Ay!  '\said  the  Earl  of  Sunvy  as  he  entered.  "Hi- 
majesty  bids  me  tell  the  queen  that  she  may  e\t«-nd  In  : 
ride  a?  far  as  she  wishes.  The  glorious  weather  is  well 
worth  that  the  Queen  of  England  should  enjoy  it,  an«l 
enter  into  a  contest  with  the  sun." 

"Oh,  the  king  is  the  most  gallant  of  cavalier-,"  -ai'l 
Catharine,  with  a  happy  smile.  "  Now  come,  Jane,  let  us 
ride." 

"Pardon  me.  your  majesty,"  said  Lady  Jane,  stepping 
back.  "  I  eannot  to-day  enjoy  the  privilege  of  accompany- 
ing your  majesty.  Lady  Anne  Ettersville  is  to-day  in  at- 
tendance/* 

"Another  time,  then,  Jane!  And  you,  Earl  Douglas. 
von  ride  with  n-!-  " 


HEX  11 Y    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  101 

"  The  king,  your  majesty,  has  ordered  ine  to  his  cabi- 
net." 

"  Behold  now  a  queen  abandoned  by  all  her  friends! " 
said  Catharine  cheerily,  as  with  light,  elastic  step  she 
passed  through  the  hall  to  the  courtyard. 

"Here  is  something  going  on  which  I  must  fathom!" 
muttered  John  Hey  wood,  who  had  left  the  hall  with  the 
rest.  "  A  mousetrap  is  set,  -for  the  cats  remain  at  home, 
and  are  hungry  for  their  prey." 

Lady  Jane  had  remained  behind  in  the  hall  with  her 
father.  Both  had  stepped  to  the  window,  and  were  silent- 
ly looking  down  into  the  yard,  where  the  brilliant  caval- 
cade of  the  queen  and  her  suite  was  moving  about  in  mot- 
ley confusion. 

Catharine  had  just  mounted  her  palfrey;  the  noble 
animal,  recognizing  his  mistress,  neighed  loudly,  and,  giv- 
ing a  snort,  reared  up  with  his  noble  burden. 

Princess  Elizabeth,  who  was  close  to  the  queen,  uttered 
a  cry  of  alarm.  "  You  will  fall,  queen,"  said  she,  "  you 
ride  such  a  wild  animal." 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed,"  said  Catharine,  smiling;  "  Hector  is 
not  wild.  It  is  with  him  as  with  me.  This  charming 
May  air  has  made  us  both  mettlesome  and  happy.  Away, 
then,  my  ladies  and  lords!  our  horses  must  be  to-day  swift 
as  birds.  We  ride  to  Epping  Forest." 

And  through  the  open  gateway  dashed  the  cavalcade. 
The  queen  in  front;  at  her  right,  the  Princess  Elizabeth; 
at  her  left,  the  master  of  horse,  Thomas  Seymour,  Earl  of 
Sudley. 

When  the  train  had  disappeared,  father  and  daughter 
stepped  back  from  the  window,  and  looked  at  each  other 
with  strange,  dark,  and  disdainful  looks. 

"Well,  Jane?"  said  Earl  Douglas,  at  length.  "She 
is  still  queen,  and  the  king  becomes  daily  more  unwieldy 
and  ailing.  It  is  time  to  give  him  a  seventh  queen." 

"  Soon,  my  father,  soon." 

"  Loves  the  queen  Henry  Howard  at  last?  " 


102  1IENRY    Vlir.    AND    U1S    COt'KT. 

"  Yes,  he  loves  her!  "  said  Jane,  :ind  her  pale  face  was 
now  colorless  as  a  winding-sheet. 

"  I  ask,  whether  she  loves  him?  " 

"She  will  love  him!"  murmured  Jane,  and  then  sud- 
denly mastering  herself,  she  continued:  "  but  it  is  not 
enough  to  make  the  queen  in  love;  doubtless  it  would  be 
still  more  efficient  if  some  one  could  instill  a  new  love 
into  the  king.  Did  you  see,  father,  with  what  ardent 
looks  his  majesty  yesterday  watched  me  and  the  Duchess 
of  Richmond?" 

"  Did  I  see  it?     The  whole  court  talked  about  it." 

"  Well,  now,  my  father,  manage  it  so  that  the  king  may 
be  heartily  bored  to-day,  and  then  bring  him  to  me.  He 
will  find  the  Duchess  of  Richmond  with  me." 

"  Ah,  a  glorious  thought!  You  will  surely  be  Henry's 
seventh  queen." 

"  I  will  ruin  Catharine  Parr,  for  she  is  my  rival,  and  1 
hate  her!"  said  Jane,  with  glowing  cheeks  and  flashing 
eyes.  "  She  has  been  queen  long  enough,  and  I  have 
bowed  myself  before  her.  Xow  she  shall  fall  in  the  dust 
before  me,  and  I  will  set  my  foot  upon  her  head." 


CHAPTER   XL 

THE   RIDE. 

IT  was  a  wondrous  morning.  The  dew  still  lay  on  the 
grass  of  the  meadows,  over  which  they  had  just  ridden  to 
reach  the  thicket  of  the  forest,  in  whose  trees  resounded 
the  melodious  voices  of  blithe  birds.  Then  they  rode 
along  the  banks  of  a  babbling  forest  stream,  and  spied  the 
deer  that  came  forth  into  the  glade  on  the  other  side,  as 
if  they  wanted,  like  the  queen  and  her  train,  to  listen  to 
the  song  of  the  birds  and  the  murmuring  of  the  fountains. 


QUEEK    CATHARINE    PAR. 

OB. 1548. N 

FROM  THE  ORIGINAL  OF  HOLKEIH.  IN  THE  COIiECTTOK  OF 
DAWSON  TURNER  ESQ"  AM.F.ILA.4I..S. 


HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COUTlT.  103 

Catharine  felt  a  nameless,  blissful  pleasure  swell  her 
bosom.  She  was  to-day  no  more  the  queen,  surrounded  by 
perils  and  foes;  no  more  the  wife  of  an  unloved,  tyrannical 
husband;  not  the  queen  trammelled  with  the  shackles 
of  etiquette.  She  was  a  free,  happy  woman,  who,  in 
presageful,  blissful  trepidation,  smiled  at  the  future, 
and  said  to  each  minute,  "  Stay,  stay,  for  thou  art  so 
beautiful!" 

It  was  a  sweet,  dreamy  happiness,  the  happiness  of  that 
hour.  With  glad  heart,  Catharine  would  have  given  her 
crown  for  it,  could  she  have  prolonged  this  hour  to  an 
eternity. 

He  was  at  her  side — he  of  whom  John  Heywood  had 
said,  that  he  was  among  her  most  trustful  and  trusty 
friends.  He  was  there;  and  even  if  she  did  not  dare  to 
look  at  him  often,  often  to  speak  to  him,  yet  she  felt  his 
presence,  she  perceived  the  glowing  beams  of  his  eyes, 
which  rested  on  her  with  consuming  fire.  Nobody  could 
observe  them.  For  the  court  rode  behind  them,  and  be- 
fore them  and  around  them  was  naught  but  Nature 
breathing  and  smiling  with  joy,  naught  but  heaven  and 
God. 

She  had  forgotten  however  that  she  was  not  quite 
alone,  and  that  while  Thomas  Seymour  rode  on  her  left, 
on  her  right  was  Princess  Elizabeth — that  young  girl  of 
fourteen  years — that  child,  who,  however,  under  the  fire 
of  suffering  and  the  storms  of  adversity,  was  early  forced 
to  precocious  bloom,  and  whose  heart,  by  the  tears  and  ex- 
perience of  her  unhappy  childhood,  had  acquired  an  early 
ripeness.  Elizabeth,  a  child  in  years,  had  already  all  the 
strength  and  warmth  of  a  woman's  feelings.  Elizabeth, 
the  disowned  and  disinherited  princess,  had  inherited  her 
father's  pride  and  ambition;  and  when  she  looked  on  the 
queen,  and  perceived  that  little  crown  wrought  on  her 
velvet  cap  in  diamond  embroidery,  she  felt  in  her  bosom  a 
sharp  pang,  and  remembered,  with  feelings  of  bitter  grief, 
that  this  crown  was  destined  never  to  adorn  her  head, 


104  1^     Vlii.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

since  the  king,  by  solemn  act  of  Parliament,  had  excluded 
hot  from  the  succession  to  the  throne.* 

But  for  a  few  weeks  this  pain  had  Itvt-n  more  gentle, 
and  less  burning.  Another  feeling  had  silenced  it. 
Elizabeth  who  was  never  to  be  queen  or  sovereign — Eliza- 
beth, might  be  a  wife  at  least.  Since  she  was  denied  a 
crown,  they  should  at  least  allow  her  instead  a  wife's  hap- 
piness; they  should  not  grudge  her  the  privilege  of  twin- 
ing in  her  hair  a  crown  of  myrtle. 

She  had  been  early  taught  to  ever  have  a  clear  con- 
sciousness of  all  her  feelings;  nor  had  she  now  shrunk  from 
reading  the  depths  of  her  heart  with  steady  and  sure  eye. 

She  knew  that  she  loved,  and  that  Thomas  Seymour 
was  the  man  whom  she  loved. 

But  the  earl?  Did  he  love  her  in  return?  Did  he 
understand  the  child's  heart?  Had  he,  beneath  the  child- 
ish face,  already  recognized  the  passionate,  proud  woman? 
I  lad  he  guessed  the  secrets  of  this  soul,  at  once  so  maidenly 
and  chaste,  and  yet  so  passionate  and  energetic? 

Thomas  Seymour  never  betrayed  a  secret,  and  what  he 
had,  it  may  be,  read  in  the  eyes  of  the  princess,  and  what 
he  had,  perhaps,  spoken  to  her  in  the  quiet  -hady  walk- 
of  Hampton  Court,  or  in  the  long,  dark  corridors  of  White- 
hall, was  known  to  no  one  save  those  two.  For  Elizabeth 
had  a  strong,  masculine  soul;  she  needed  no  confidant  to 
s^hare  her  secrets;  and  Thomas  Seymour  had  feared  even, 
like  the  immortal  hair-dresser  of  King  Midas,  to  dig  a  hole 
and  utter  his  secret  therein;  for  he  knew  very  well  that,  if 
the  reed  grew  up  and  repeated  his  words,  he  might,  for 
these  words,  lay  his  head  on  the  block. 

Poor  Elizabeth!  She  did  not  even  suspect  the  earlV 
secret  and  her  own  were  not,  however,  the  same;  i<he  did 
not  suspect  that  Thomas  Seymour,  if  he  pnc->od  her  secret. 
iniglvt,  perha|i--.  avail  himself  of  it  to  make  thereof  a  bril- 
liant foil  for  his  own  secret. 

He  had,  like  her,  ever  before  hi-  tyoi   the  diamond 

»  Tytler,  p.  840. 


HEXKY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  105 

orown  on  the  head  of  the  young  queen,  and  he  had  noticecf 
well  how  old  and  f eehle  the  king  had  become  of  late. 

As  he  now  rode  by  the  side  of  the  two  princesses,  he 
felt  his  heart  swell  with  a  proud  joy,  and  bold  and  ambi- 
tious schemes  alone  occupied  his  soul. 

The  two  women  understood  nothing  of  this.  They 
were  both  too  much  occupied  with  their  own  thoughts; 
and  while  Catharine's  eyes  swept  with  beaming  look  the 
landscape  far  and  wide,  the  brow  of  the  princess  was  slight- 
ly clouded,  and  her  sharp  eye  rested  with  a  fixed  and 
watchful  gaze,  on  Thomas  Seymour. 

She  had  noticed  the  impassioned  look  which  he  had 
now  and  then  fastened  on  the  queen.  The  slight,  scarcely 
perceptible  tremor  of  his  voice,  when  he  spoke,  had  not 
escaped  her. 

Princess  Elizabeth  was  jealous;  she  felt  the  first  tortur- 
ing motions  of  that  horrible  disease  which  she  had  in- 
herited from  her  father,  and  in  the  feverish  paroxysms  of 
which  the  king  had  sent  two  of  his  wives  to  the  scaffold. 

She  was  jealous,  but  not  of  the  queen;  much  more,  she 
dreamed  not  that  the  queen  might  share  and  return  Sey- 
mour's love.  It  never  came  into  her  mind  to  accuse  the 
queen  of  an  understanding  with  the  earl.  She  was  jeal- 
ous only  of  the  looks  which  he  directed  toward  the  queen; 
and  because  she  was  watching  those  looks,  she  could  not  at 
the  same  time  read  the  eyes  of  her  young  stepmother  also; 
she  could  not  see  the  gentle  flames  which,  kindled  by  the 
fire  of  his  looks,  glowed  in  hers. 

Thomas  Seymour  had  seen  them,  and  had  he  now  been 
alone  with  Catharine,  he  would  have  thrown  himself  at 
her  feet  and  confided  to  her  all  the  deep  and  dangerous 
secrets  that  he  had  so  long  harbored  in  his  breast;  he 
would  have  left  to  her  the  choice  of  bringing  him  to  the 
block,  or  of  accepting  the  love  which  he  consecrated  to  her. 

But  there,  behind  them,  were  the  spying,  all-obeerving. 
all-surmising  courtiers;  there  was  the  Princess  Elizabeth, 
who,  had  he  ventured  to  speak  to  the  queen,  would  have 
8 


IOC  HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

conjectured  from  his  manner  the  words  which  she  could 
not  understand;  for  love  sees  so  clearly,  and  jealousy  has 
such  keen  ears! 

Catharine  suspected  nothing  of  the  thoughts  of  her 
companions.  She  alone  was  happy;  she  alone  gave  herself 
up  with  full  soul  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  moment.  She 
drew  in  with  intense  delight  the  pure  air;  she  drank  in 
the  odor  of  the  meadow  blossoms;  she  listened  with  thirsty 
ear  to  the  murmuring  song  which  the  wind  wafted  to  her 
from  the  boughs  of  the  trees.  Her  wishes  extended  not 
beyond  the  hour;  she  rested  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  the 
presence  of  her  beloved.  He  was  there — what  needed  she 
more  to  make  her  happy? 

Her  wishes  extended  not  beyond  this  hour.  She  was 
only  conscious  how  delightful  it  was  thus  to  be  at  her  be- 
loved's side,  to  breathe  the  same  air,  to  see  the  same  sun, 
the  same  flowers  on  which  his  eyes  rested,  and  on  which 
their  glances  at  least  might  meet  in  kisses  which  were  de- 
nied to  their  lips. 

But  as  they  thus  rode  along,  silent  and  meditative, 
each  occupied  with  his  own  thoughts,  there  came  the  as- 
sistance for  which  Thomas  Seymour  had  prayed,  fluttering 
along  in  the  shape  of  a  fly. 

At  first  this  fly  sported  and  buzzed  about  the  nose  of 
the  fiery,  proud  beast  which  the  queen  rode;  and  as  no 
one  noticed  it,  it  was  not  disturbed  by  Hector's  tossing  of 
his  mane,  but  crept  securely  and  quietly  to  the  top  of  the 
noble  courser's  head,  pausing  a  little  here  and  there,  and 
sinking  his  sting  into  the  horse's  flesh,  so  that  he  reared 
and  began  loudly  to  neigh. 

But  Catharine  was  a  bold  and  dexterous  rider,  and  the 
proud  spirit  of  her  horse  only  afforded  her  delight,  and 
gave  the  master  of  horse  an  opportunity  to  praise  her  skill 
and  coolness. 

Catharine  received  with  a  sweet  smile  the  encomiums 
of  her  beloved.  But  the  fly  kept  creeping  on,  and,  im- 
pelled by  a  diabolic  delight,  now  penetrated  the  horse's  ear. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  107 

The  poor,  tormented  animal  made  a  spring  forward. 
This  spring,  instead  of  freeing  him  from  his  enemy,  made 
him  penetrate  the  ear  still  farther,  and  sink  his  sting  still 
deeper  into  the  soft  fleshy  part  of  the  same. 

Stung  by  the  maddening  pain,  the  horse  cast  off  all 
control,  and,  heedless  of  bridle  and  scorning  the  bit, 
dashed  forward  in  a  furious  run — forward  over  the  meadow 
swift  as  an  arrow,  resistless  as  the  lightning. 

"  On,  on,  to  the  queen's  rescue ! "  thundered  the  mas- 
ter of  horse,  and  with  mad  haste,  away  flew  he  also  over 
the  meadow. 

"  To  the  help  of  the  queen!  "  repeated  Princess  Eliza- 
beth, and  she  likewise  spurred  her  horse  and  hurried  for- 
ward, accompanied  by  the  whole  suite. 

But  what  is  the  speed  of  a  horse  ever  so  swift,  but  yet 
in  his  senses,  compared  with  the  raving  madness  of  a  crazy 
courser,  that,  despising  all  subjection,  and  mocking  at  the 
bridle,  dashes  ahead,  foaming  with  the  sense  of  freedom 
and  unrestraint,  uncontrollable  as  the  surge  lashed  by  the 
storm! 

Already  far  behind  them  lay  the  meadows,  far  behind 
them  the  avenues  leading  through  the  woods,  and  over 
brooks  and  ditches,  over  meadows  and  wastes,  Hector  was 
dashing  on. 

The  queen  still  sat  firmly  in  the  saddle;  her  cheeks  were 
colorless;  her  lips  trembled;  but  her  eye  was  still  bright 
and  clear.  She  had  not  yet  lost  her  presence  of  mind;  she 
was  perfectly  conscious  of  her  danger.  The  din  of  scream- 
ing, screeching  voices,  which  she  heard  at  first,  had  long 
since  died  away  in  silence  behind  her.  An  immense  soli- 
tude, the  deep  silence  of  the  grave,  was  around  her. 
Naught  was  heard  save  the  panting  and  snorting  of  the 
horse;  naught  but  the  crash  and  clatter  of  his  hoofs. 

Suddenly,  however,  this  sound  seemed  to  find  an  echo. 
It  was  repeated  over  yonder.  There  was  the  same  snort- 
ing and  panting;  there  was  the  same  resounding  tramp- 
ling of  hoofs. 


108  HEXIIV    VIII.    AND    HIS    CUfKT. 

And  now,  oh,  now,  struck  on  Catharine's  ear  the  sound 
of  a  voice  only  too  well  loved,  and  made  her  scream  aloud 
with  delight  and  desire. 

But  this  cry  frightened  anew  the  enraged  animal. 
For  a  moment,  exhausted  and  panting,  he  had  slackened  in 
his  mad  race;  now  he  sprang  forward  with  renewed  energy; 
now  he  flew  on  as  if  impelled  by  the  wings  of  the  wind. 

But  ever  nearer  and  nearer  sounded  the  loved  voice, 
ever  nearer  the  tramp  of  his  horse. 

They  were  now  upon  a  large  plain,  shut  in  on  all  side;* 
by  woods.  While  the  queen's  horse  circled  the  plain  in  n 
wide  circuit,  Seymour's,  obedient  to  the  rein,  sped  directly 
across  it,  and  was  close  behind  the  queen. 

"Only  a  moment  more!  Only  hold  your  arms  firmly 
around  the  animal's  neck,  that  the  shock  may  not  hurl  you 
off,  when  I  lay  hold  of  the  rein! "  shouted  Seymour,  and 
he  set  his  spurs  into  his  horse's  flanks,  so  that  he  sprang 
forward  with  a  wild  cry. 

This  cry  roused  Hector  to  new  fury.  Panting  for 
breath,  he  shot  forward  with  fearful  leaps,  now  straight 
into  the  thicket  of  the  woods. 

"I  hear  his  voice  no  more,"  murmured  Catharine. 
And  at  length  overcome  with  anxiety  and  the  dizzy  race, 
and  worn  out  with  her  exertions,  she  closed  her  eyes;  her 
senses  appeared  to  be  about  leaving  her. 

But  at  this  moment,  a  firm  hand  seized  with  iron  gni.-j> 
the  rein  of  her  horse,  so  that  he  bowed  his  head,  shaking, 
trembling,  sind  almost  ashamed,  as  though  he  felt  lie  lunl 
found  his  lord  and  master. 

"Saved!  I  am  saved!"  faltered  Catharine,  and 
breathless,  scarcely  in  her  senses,  she  leaned  her  head  on 
Seymour's  shoulder. 

He  lifted  her  gently  from  the  saddle,  and  plnr-rd  her 
on  the  soft  moss  beneath  an  ancient  oak.  Then  he  tied 
the  horses  to  a  bough,  and  Catharine,  trembling  and  fnint, 
«ank  on  her  knees  to  rest  after  such  violent  exertion. 


HEMtY    VIU.    AND   HIS    COURT. 
CHAPTER   XII. 

THE     DECLARATION. 

THOMAS  SEYMOUR  returned  to  Catharine.  She  still 
lay  there  with  closed  eyes,  pale  and  motionless. 

lie  gazed  on  her  long  and  steadily;  his  eyes  drank  in, 
in  long  draughts,  the  sight  of  this  beautiful  and  noble 
woman,  and  he  forgot  at  that  moment  that  she  was  a 
queen. 

He  was  at  length  alone  with  her.  At  last,  after  two 
years  of  torture,  of  resignation,  of  dissimulation,  God  had 
granted  him  this  hour,  for  which  he  had  so  long  yearned, 
which  he  had  so  long  considered  unattainable.  Now  it 
was  there,  now  it  was  his. 

And  had  the  whole  court,  had  King  Henry  himself, 
come  right  "then,  Thomas  Seymour  would  not  have  heeded 
it;  it  would  not  have  affrighted  him.  The  blood  had 
mounted  to  his  head  and  overcome  his  reason.  His  heart, 
still  agitated  and  beating  violently  from  his  furious  ride 
and  his  anxiety  for  Catharine,  allowed  him  to  hear  no 
other  voice  than  that  of  passion. 

He  knelt  by  the  queen  and  seized  her  hand. 

Perhaps  it  was  this  touch  which  roused  her  from  her 
unconsciousness.  She  raised  her  eyes  and  gazed  around 
with  a  perplexed  look. 

"  Where  am  I?  "  breathed  she  in  a  low  tone. 

Thomas  Seymour  pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips.  "  You 
are  with  the  most  faithful  and  devoted  of  your  servants, 
queen ! " 

"  Queen ! "  This  word  roused  her  from  her  stupor, 
and  caused  her  to  raise  herself  half  up. 

"  But  where  is  my  court?  Where  is  the  Princess  Eliza- 
beth? Where  are  all  the  eyes  that  heretofore  watched  me? 
Where  are  all  the  listeners  and  spies  who  accompany  the 
quoen  ?  " 

"  They  are  far  away  from  here,"  said  Seymour  in  a  tone 


110  HEXRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 

which  betrayed  his  secret  delight.  "They  are  far  away 
from  here,  and  need  at  least  an  hour's  time  to  come  up 
with  us.  An  hour,  queen!  are  you  aware  wrhat  that  is  to 
me?  An  hour  of  freedom,  after  two  years  of  imprison- 
ment! An  hour  of  happiness,  after  two  years  of  daily  tor- 
ture, daily  endurance  of  the  torments  of  hell! " 

Catharine,  who  had  at  first  smiled,  had  now  become 
grave  and  sad. 

Her  eye  rested  on  the  cap  which  had  fallen  from  her 
head  and  lay  near  her  on  the  grass. 

She  pointed  with  trembling  finger  to  the  crown,  and 
said  softly,  "  Recognize  you  that  sign,  my  lord?  " 

"  I  recognize  it,  my  lady;  but  in  this  hour,  I  no  longer 
shrink  back  at  it.  There  are  moments  in  which  life  is  at 
its  crowning  point,  and  when  one  heeds  not  the  abyss  that 
threatens  close  beneath.  Such  an  hour  is  the  .present.  I 
am  aware  that  this  hour  makes  me  guilty  of  high  treason 
and  may  send  me  to  the  block;  but  nevertheless  I  will 
not  be  silent.  The  fire  which  burns  in  my  breast  con- 
sumes me.  I  must  at  length  give  it  vent.  My  heart,  that 
for  years  has  burned  upon  a  funeral  pyre,  and  which  is  so 
strong  that  in  the  midst  of  its  agonies  it  has  still  ever  felt 
a  sensation  of  its  blessedness — my  heart  must  at  length 
find  death  or  favor.  You  shall  hear  me,  queen!  " 

"  No,  no,"  said  she,  almost  in  anguish,  "  I  will  not,  I 
cannot  hear  you!  Remember  that  I  am  Henry  the 
Eighth's  wife,  and  that  it  is  dangerous  to  speak  to  her. 
Silence,  then,  earl,  silence,  and  let  us  ride  on." 

She  would  have  arisen,  but  her  own  exhaustion  and 
Lord  Seymour's  hand  caused  her  to  sink  back  again. 

"  No,  I  will  not  be  silent,"  said  he.  "  I  will  not  be 
silent  until  I  have  told  you  all  that  rages  and  glows  within 
me.  The  Queen  of  England  may  either  condemn  me  or 
pardon  me,  but  she  shall  know  that  to  me  she  is  not  Henry 
the  Eighth's  wife,  but  only  the  most  charming  and  grace- 
ful, the  noblest  and  loveliest  woman  in  England.  I  will 
tell  her  that  I  never  recollect  she  is  ray  queen,  or,  if  I  do 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  {{{ 

so,  it  is  only  to  curse  the  king,  who  was  presumptuous 
enough  to  set  this  brightly  sparkling  jewel  in  his  bloody 
crown." 

Catharine,  almost  horrified,  laid  her  hand  on  Seymour's 
lips.  "  Silence,  unhappy  man,  silence!  Know  you  that 
it  is  your  sentence  of  death  which  you  are  now  uttering? 
Your  sentence  of  death,  if  any  soul  hears  you?  " 

"  But  no  one  hears  me.  No  one  save  the  queen,  and 
God,  who,  however,  is  perhaps  more  compassionate  and 
merciful  than  the  queen.  Accuse  me  then,  queen;  go 
and  tell  your  king  that  Thomas  Seymour  is  a  traitor;  that 
he  dares  love  the  queen.  The  king  will  send  me  to  the 
scaffold,  but  I  shall  nevertheless  deem  myself  happy,  for  I 
shall  at  least  die  by  your  instrumentality.  Queen,  if  1 
cannot  live  for  you,  the'n  beautiful  it  is  to  die  for  you! " 

Catharine  listened  to  him  wholly  stupefied,  wholly  in- 
toxicated. This  was,  for  her,  language  wholly  new  and 
never  heard  before,  at  which  her  heart  trembled  in  bliss- 
ful awe,  which  rushed  around  her  in  enchanting  melodies 
and  lulled  her  into  a  sweet  stupefaction.  Now  she  her- 
self even  forgot  that  she  was  queen,  that  she  was  the 
wife  of  Henry,  the  bloodthirsty  and  the  jealous.  She  was 
conscious  only  of  this,  that  the  man  whom  she  had  so  long 
loved,  was  now  kneeling  at  her  side.  With  rapture  she 
drank  in  his  words,  which  struck  upon  her  ear  like  ex- 
quisite music. 

Thomas  Seymour  continued.  He  told  her  all  he  had 
suffered.  He  told  her  he  had  often  resolved  to  die,  in  or- 
der to  put  an  end  to  these  tortures,  but  that  then  a  glance 
of  her  eye,  a  word  from  her  lips,  had  given  him  strength 
to  live,  and  still  longer  endure  these  tortures,  which  were 
at  the  same  time  so  full  of  rapture. 

"  But  now,  queen,  now  my  strength  is  exhausted,  and 
it  is  for  you  to  give  me  life  or  death.  To-morrow  I  will 
ascend  the  scaffold,  or  you  shall  permit  me  to  live,  to  live 
for  you." 

Catharine  trembled  and  looked  at  him  wollnigh  as- 


112  HENRY    VIII.    AM)    HIS    (Ol'KT. 

tovmded.  He  seemed  so  proud  :uid  imperative,  she  almost 
felt  a  fear  for  him,  but  it  was  the  happy  fear  of  a  loving, 
meek  woman  before  a  strong,  commanding  num. 

"Know  you/'  said  she,  with  a  charming  smile,  "that 
you  almost  have  the  appearance  of  wishing  to  command  me 
to  love  you?  " 

"  No,  queen,"  said  he,  proudly,  "  I  cannot  command 
you  to  love  me,  but  I  bid  you  tell  me  the  truth.  I  bid  you 
do  this,  for  I  am  a  man  who  has  the  right  to  demand  the 
truth  of  a  woman  face  to  face.  And  I  have  told  you,  you 
are  not  the  queen  to  me.  You  are  but  a  beloved,  an 
adored  woman.  This  love  has  nothing  to  do  with  your 
royalty,  and  while  I  confess  it  to  you,  I  do  not  think  that 
you  abase  yourself  when  you  receive  it.  For  the  true 
love  of  a  man  is  ever  the  holiest  gift  that  he  can  present 
to  a  woman,  and  if  a  beggar  dedicates  it  to  a  queen,  she 
must  feel  herself  honored  by  it.  Oh,  queen,  I  am  a  beg- 
gar. I  lie  at  your  feet  and  raise  my  hands  U-ecchiiigly  to 
you;  but  I  want  not  charity,  I  want  not  your  compassion 
and  pity,  which  may,  perhaps,  grant  me  an  alms  to  lessen 
my  misery.  \o,  I  want  you  yourself.  I  require  all  or 
nothing.  It  will  not  satisfy  me  that  you  forgive  my  bold- 
ness, and  draw  the  veil  of  silence  over  my  mad  attempt. 
Xo,  I  wish  you  to  speak,  to  pronounce  my  condemnation  or 
a  benediction  on  me.  Oh,  I  know  you  are  generou- 
compassionate,  and  even  if  you  despise  my  love  and  will 
not  return  it,  yet,  it  may  be,  you  will  not  betray  me.  You 
will  spare  me,  and  be  silent.  But  I  repeat  it,  queen,  I  do 
not  accept  this  offer  of  your  magnanimity.  You  are  to 
make  me  either  a  criminal  or  a  god;  for  I  am  a  criniin.-il 
if  you  condemn  my  love,  a  god  if  you  return  it." 

"  And  do  you  know,  earl,"  whispered  Catharine,  "  that 
you  are  very  cruel?  You  want  me  to  be  either  an  accuser 
or  an  accomplice.  You  leave  me  no  choice  but  that  of 
being  either  your  murderess  or  a  perjured  and  adultomu- 
woman — a  wife  who  forgets  her  plighted  faith  and  her 
sacred  duty,  and  defdes  the  crown  which  my  husband  has 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  H3 

placed  upon  my  head  with  stains,  which  Henry  will  wash 
out  with  my  own  blood  and  with  yours  also." 

"  Let  it  be  so,  then,"  cried  the  earl,  almost  joyfully. 
"  Let  my  head  fall,  no  matter  how  or  when,  if  you  but 
love  me;  for  then  I  shall  still  be  immortal;  for  a  moment 
in  your  arms  is  an  eternity  of  bliss." 

"  But  I  have  already  told  you  that  not  only  your  head, 
but  mine  also,  is  concerned  in  this  matter.  You  know  the 
king's  harsh  and  cruel  disposition.  The  mere  suspicion  is 
enough  to  condemn  me.  Ah,  if  he  knew  what  we  have 
just  now  spoken  here,  he  would  condemn  me,  as  he  con- 
demned Catharine  Howard,  though  I  am  not  guilty  as  she 
was.  Ah,  I  shudder  at  the  thought  of  the  block;  and  you, 
Earl  Seymour,  you  would  bring  me  to  the  scaffold,  and  ye  I 
you  say  you  love  me!  " 

Seymour  sunk  his  head  mournfully  upon  his  breast  and 
sighed  deeply.  "  You  have  pronounced  my  sentence, 
queen,  and  though  you  are  too  noble  to  tell  me  the  truth, 
yet  I  have  guessed  it.  No,  you  do  not  love  me,  for  you 
see  with  keen  eyes  the  danger  that  threatens  you,  and  you 
fear  for  yourself.  No,  you  love  me  not,  else  you  would 
think  of  nothing  save  love  alone.  The  dangers  would  ani- 
mate you,  and  the  sword  which  hangs  over  your  head  you 
would  not  see,  or  you  would  with  rapture  grasp  its  edge 
and  say,  '  What  is  death  to  me,  since  I  am  happy!  What 
care  I  for  dying,  since  I  have  felt  immortal  happiness! ' 
Ah,  Catharine,  you  have  a  cold  heart  and  a  cool  head. 
May  God  preserve  them  both  to  you;  then  will  you  pass 
through  life  quietly  and  safely;  but  you  will  yet  be  a 
poor,  wretched  woman,  and  when  you  come  to  die,  they 
will  place  a  royal  crown  upon  your  coffin,  but  love  will  not 
weep  for  you.  Farewell,  Catharine,  Queen  of  England, 
and  since  you  cannot  love  him,  give  Thomas  Seymour,  the 
traitor,  your  sympathy  at  least." 

He  bowed  low  and  kissed  her  feet,  then  he  arose  and 
walked  with  firm  step  to  the  tree  where  he  had  tied  the 
horses.  But  now  Catharine  arose,  now  sbe  flew  to  him, 


114  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

and  grasping  his  hand,  asked,  trembling  and  breathless, 
"  What  are  you  about  to  do?  whither  are  you  going?  " 

"  To  the  king,  my  lady." 

"  And  what  will  you  do  there?  " 

"  I  will  show  him  a  traitor  who  has  dared  love  the 
queen.  You  have  just  killed  my  heart;  he  will  kill  only 
my  body.  That  is  less  painful,  and  I  will  thank  him 
for  it." 

Catharine  uttered  a  cry,  and  with  passionate  vehe- 
mence drew  him  back  to  the  place  where  she  had  been 
resting. 

"  If  you  do  what  you  say,  you  will  kill  me,"  said  she, 
with  trembling  lips.  "  Hear  me,  hear!  The  moment  you 
mount  your  horse  to  go  to  the  king,  I  mount  mine  too; 
but  not  to  follow  you,  not  to  return  to  London,  but  to 
plunge  with  my  horse  down  yonder  precipice.  Oh,  fear 
nothing;  they  will  not  accuse  you  of  my  murder.  They 
will  say  that  I  plunged  down  there  with  my  horse,  and 
that  the  raging  animal  caused  my  death." 

"  Queen,  take  good  heed,  consider  well  what  you  say!  " 
exclaimed  Thomas  Seymour,  his  countenance  clearing  up 
and  his  face  flaming  with  delight.  "  Bear  in  mind  that 
your  words  must  be  either  a  condemnation  or  an  avowal. 
I  wish  death,  or  your  love!  Not  the  love  of  a  queen,  who 
thinks  to  be  gracious  to  her  subject,  when  for  the  moment 
she  elevates  him  to  herself;  but  the  love  of  a  woman  who 
bows  her  head  in  meekness  and  receives  her  lover  as  at  the 
same  time  her  lord.  Oh,  Catharine,  be  well  on  your 
guard!  If  you  come  to  me  with  the  pride  of  a  queen,  if 
there  be  even  one  thought  in  you  which  tells  you  that  you 
are  bestowing  a  favor  on  a  subject  as  you  take  him  to  your 
heart,  then  be  silent  and  let  me  go  hence.  I  am  proud, 
and  as  nobly  born  as  yourself,  and  however  love  throws  me 
conquered  at  your  feet,  yet  it  shall  not  bow  my  head  in 
the  dust!  But  if  you  say  that  you  love  me,  Catharine,  for 
that  I  will  consecrate  my  whole  life  to  you.  I  will  be  your 
lord,  but  your  slave  also.  There  shall  be  in  me  no  thought, 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT.  H5 

no  feeling,  no  wish  that  is  not  devoted  and  subservient  to 
you.  And  when  I  say  that  I  will  be  your  lord,  I  mean 
not  thereby  that  I  will  not  lie  forever  at  your  feet  and 
bow  my  head  in  the  dust,  and  say  to  you:  Tread  on  it,  if 
it  seem  good  to  you,  for  I  am  your  slave!  " 

And  speaking  thus,  he  dropped  on  his  knees  and 
pressed  to  her  feet  his  face,  whose  glowing  and  noble  ex- 
pression ravished  Catharine's  heart. 

She  bent  down  to  him,  and  gently  lifting  his  head, 
looked  with  an  indescribable  expression  of  happiness  and 
love  deep  into  his  beaming  eyes. 

"  Do  you  love  me?  "  asked  Seymour,  as  he  put  his  arm 
softly  around  her  slender  waist,  and  arose  from  his  kneel- 
ing attitude. 

(i  I  love  you!  "  said  she,  with  a  firm  voice  and  a  happy 
smile.  "  I  love  you,  not  as  a  queen,  but  as  a  woman;  and 
if  perchance  this  love  bring  us  both  to  the  scaffold,  well 
then  we  shall  at  least  die  together,  to  meet  again  there 
above! " 

"  No,  think  not  now  of  dying,  Catharine,  think  of  liv- 
ing— of  the  beautiful,  enchanting  future  which  is  beckon- 
ing to  us.  Think  of  the  days  which  will  soon  come,  and 
in  which  our  love  will  no  longer  require  secresy  or  a  veil, 
but  when  we  will  manifest  it  to  the  whole  world,  and  can 
proclaim  our  happiness  from  a  full  glad  breast!  Oh, 
Catharine,  let  us  hope  that  compassionate  and  merciful 
death  will  loose  at  last  the  unnatural  bonds  that  bind  you 
to  that  old  man  Then,  when  Henry  is  no  more,  then  will 
you  be  mine,  mine  with  your  entire  being,  with  your  whole 
life;  and  instead  of  a  proud  regal  crown,  a  crown  of  myrtle 
shall  adorn  your  head!  Swear  that  to  me,  Catharine; 
swear  that  you  will  become  my  wife,  as  soon  as  death  has 
set  you  free/' 

The  queen  shuddered  and  her  cheeks  grew  pale. 
"  Oh,"  said  she  with  a  sigh,  "  death  then  is  our  hope  and 
perhaps  the  scaffold  our  end!  " 

<r  No,  Catharine,  love  is  our  hope,  and  happiness  our 


H»;  HEN  It  V    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

end.  Think  of  life,  of  our  future!  God  grant  my  re- 
quest. S\\var  t<>  mi-  here  in  the  face  of  God,  and  of  sacred 
and  calm  nature  around  us,  swear  to  me,  that  from  the  day 
when  (lr;ith  I'm--  you  from  your  husband  you  will  be  mine, 
my  wife,  my  consort!  Swear  to  me,  that  you,  regardless 
of  etiquette  and  unmindful  of  tyrannical  custom,  will  be 
Lord  Seymour's  wife,  before  the  knell  for  Henry's  death 
has  died  away.  We  will  find  a  priest,  who  may  bless  our 
love  and  sanctify  the  covenant  that  we  have  this  day  con- 
eluded  for  eternity!  Swear  to  me,  that,  till  that  wished- 
for  day,  you  will  keep  for  me  your  truth  and  love,  and 
never  forget  that  my  honor  is  yours  also,  that  your  happi- 
ness is  also  mine !  " 

"  I  swear  it!  "  said  Catharine,  solemnly.  "  You  may 
depend  upon  me  at  all  times  and  at  all  hours.  Never  will 
I  be  untrue  to  you;  never  will  I  have  a  thought  that  is 
not  yours.  I  will  love  you  as  Thomas  Seymour  deserves 
to  be  loved,  that  is  with  a  devoted  and  faithful  heart.  It 
will  be  my  pride  to  subject  myself  to  you,  and  with  glad 
soul  will  I  serve  and  follow  vou,  as  your  true  and  obedient 
wife." 

<*\  accept  your  oath!  "  said  Seymour,  solemnly.  "  But 
in  return  I  swear  that  I  will  honor  and  esteem  you  as  my 
queen  and  mistress.  I  swear  to  you  that  you  shall  never 
find  a  more  obedient  subject,  a  more  unselfish  counsellor,  a 
more  faithful  husband,  a  braver  champion,  than  I  will  be. 
'  My  life  for  my  queen,  my  entire  heart  for  my  beloved '; 
this  henceforth  shall  be  my  motto,  and  may  I  be  disowned 
and  (lt--.iii-.nl  by  (;<»{  and  by  you,  if  ever  I  violate  this 
oath." 

"Amen!  "  said  Catharine,  with  a  bewitching  smile. 

Then  both  were  silent.  It  was  that  silence  which  only 
love  and  happiness  knows — that  silence  which  is  so 
rich  in  ili<.nirbts  ;m<l  tVi -lings,  and  therefore  so  poor  in 
words! 

The  wind  rustled  whisperingly  in  the  trees,  among 
whose  dark  bran«-lic«  here  and  there  a  bird's  warbling  or 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  H7 

flute-like  notes  resounded.  The  sun  threw  his  emerald 
light  over  the  soft  velvety  carpet  of  the  ground,  which, 
rising  and  falling  in  gentle,  undulating  lines,  formed  love- 
ly little  hollows  and  hillocks,  on  which  now  and  then  was 
seen  here  and  there  the  slender  and  stately  figure  of  a 
hart,  or  a  roe,  that,  looking  around  searchingly  with  his 
bright  eyes,  started  back  frightened  into  the  thicket  on 
observing  these  two  human  figures  and  the  group  of  horses 
encamped  there. 

Suddenly  this  quiet  was  interrupted  by  the  loud  sound 
of  the  hunter's  horn,  and  in  the  distance  were  heard  con- 
fused cries  and  shouts,  which  were  echoed  by  the  dense 
forest  and  repeated  in  a  thousand  tones. 

With  a  sigh  the  queen  raised  her  head  from  the  earl's 
shoulder. 

The  dream  was  at  an  end;  the  angel  came  with  flaming 
sword  to  drive  her  from  paradise. 

For  she  was  no  longer  worthy  of  paradise.  The  fatal 
word  had  been  spoken,  and  while  it  brought  her  love,  it 
had  perjured  her. 

Henry's  wife,  his  by  her  vow  taken  before  the  altar, 
had  betrothed  herself  to  another,  and  given  him  the  love 
that  she  owed  her  husband. 

"It  is  passed,"  said  he,  mournfully.  "These  sounds 
call  me  back  to  my  slavery.  We  must  both  resume  our 
roles.  I  must  become  queen  again." 

"But  first  swear  to  me  that  you  will  never  forget  this 
hour;  that  you  will  ever  think  upon  the  oaths  which  we 
have  mutually  sworn." 

She  looked  at  him  almost  astounded.  "  My  God!  can 
truth  and  love  be  forgotten?" 

"  You  will  remain  ever  true,  Catharine?  " 

She  smiled.  "  See,  now,  my  jealous  lord,  do  I  address 
such  questions  to  you?  " 

"  Oh,  queen,  you  well  know  that  you  possess  the  charm 
that  binds  forever." 

"  Who  knows?  "  said  she  dreamilv,  as  she  raised  her 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

enthusiastic  look  to  heaven,  and  seemed  to  follow  the 
bright  silvery  clouds  which  were  sailing  slowly  across  the 
blue  ether. 

Then  her  eyes  fell  on  her  beloved,  and  laying  her  hand 
softly  upon  his  shoulder,  she  said:  "Love  is  like  God — 
eternal,  primeval,  and  ever  present!  But  you  must  be- 
lieve in  it  to  feel  its  presence;  you  must  trust  it  to  be 
worthy  of  its  blessing!  " 

But  the  hallooing  and  the  clangor  of  the  horns  came 
nearer  and  nearer.  Even  now  was  heard  the  barking  of 
the  dogs  and  the  tramp  of  horses. 

The  earl  had  untied  the  horses,  and  led  Hector,  who 
was  now  quiet  and  gentle  as  a  lamb,  to  his  mistress. 

"  Queen,"  said  Thomas  Seymour,  "  two  delinquents 
now  approach  you!  Hector  is  my  accomplice,  and  had 
it  not  been  that  the  fly  I  now  see  on  his  swollen  ear 
had  made  him  raving,  I  should  be  the  most  pitiable  and 
unhappy  man  in  your  kingdom,  while  now  I  am  the  hap- 
piest and  most  enviable." 

The  queen  made  no  answer,  but  she  put  both  her  arms 
around  the  animal's  neck  and  kissed  him. 

"  Henceforth,"  said  she,  "  then  I  will  ride  only  Hector, 
and  when  he  is  old  and  unfit  for  service " 

"  He  shall  be  tended  and  cared  for  in  the  stud  of 
Countess  Catharine  Seymour! "  interrupted  Thomas  Sey- 
mour, as  he  held  the  queen's  stirrup  and  assisted  her  into 
the  saddle. 

The  two  rode  in  silence  toward  the  sound  of  the  voices 
and  horns,  both  too  much  occupied  by  their  own  thoughts 
to  interrupt  them  by  trifling  words. 

"  He  loves  me!  "  thought  Catharine.  "  I  am  a  happy, 
enviable  woman,  for  Thomas  Seymour  loves  me." 

"She  loves  me!"  thought  he,  with  a  proud,  trium- 
phant smile.  "  I  shall,  therefore,  one  day  become  Regent 
of  England." 

Just  then  they  came  out  on  the  large  level  meadow, 
through  which  they  had  previously  ridden,  and  over 


HENRY   VIII.   AND  HIS   COURT.  H9 

which  now  came,  scattered  here  and  there  in  motley  con- 
fusiTra,  the  entire  royal  suite,  Princess  Elizabeth  at  the 
head. 

"One  thing  more!"  whispered  Catharine.  "If  you 
ever  need  a  messenger  to  me,  apply  to  John  Heywood.  He 
is  a  friend  whom  we  can  trust." 

And  she  sprang  forward  to  meet  the  princess,  to  re- 
count to  her  all  the  particulars  of  her  adventure,  and  her 
happy  rescue  by  the  master  of  horse. 

Elizabeth,  however,  listened  to  her  with  glowing  looks 
and  thoughts  distracted,  and  as  the  queen  then  turned  to 
the  rest  of  her  suite,  and,  surrounded  by  her  ladies  and 
lords,  received  their  congratulations,  a  slight  sign  from  the 
princess  called  Thomas  Seymour  to  her  side. 

She  allowed  her  horse  to  curvet  some  paces  forward,  by 
which  she  and  the  earl  found  themselves  separated  a  little 
from  the  rest,  and  were  sure  of  being  overheard  by  no 
one. 

"  My  lord,"  said  she,  in  a  vehement,  almost  threaten- 
ing voice,  "  you  have  often  and  in  vain  besought  me  to 
grant  you  an  interview.  I  have  denied  you.  You  in- 
timated that  you  had  many  things  to  say  to  me,  for  which 
we  must  be  alone,  and  which  must  reach  no  listener's  ear. 
Well,  now,  to-day  I  grant  you  an  interview,  and  I  am  at 
last  inclined  to  listen  to  you." 

She  paused  and  waited  for  a  reply.  But  the  earl  re- 
mained silent.  He  only  made  a  deep  and  respectful  bow, 
bending  to  the  very  neck  of  his  horse.  "  Well  and  good; 
I  will  go  to  this  rendezvous  were  it  but  to  blind  Elizabeth's 
eyes,  that  she  may  not  see  what  she  never  ought  to  see. 
That  was  all." 

The  young  princess  cast  on  him  an  angry  look,  and  a 
dark  scowl  gathered  on  her  brow.  "  You  understand  well 
how  to  control  your  joy,"  said  she;  "  and  any  one  to  see 
you  just  now  would  think — 

"  That  Thomas  Seymour  is  discreet  enough  not  to  let 
even  his  rapture  be  read  in  his  countenance  at  this  danger- 


l^i  Jf i:\KV    VIII.    AND    UIS    COURT. 

ous  court,"  interrupted  the  earl  in  a  low  murmur.  "When, 
princess,  may  I  see  you  and  where?" 

"  Wait  for  the  message  that  John  Heywood  will  bring 
you  to-day,"  whispered  Elizabeth,  as  she  sprang  forward 
and  again  drew  near  the  queen. 

"John  Heywood,  again!"  muttered  the  earl.  "The 
confidant  of  both,  and  so  my  hangman,  if  he  wishes  to  be!  " 


CHAPTER    XIII. 
"  LE  BOI  S'ENXUIT." 

KING  HEXRY  was  alone  in  his  study.  He  had  spent  a 
few  hours  in  writing  on  a  devout  and  edifying  book,  which 
he  was  preparing  for  his  subjects,  and  which,  in  virtue  of 
his  dignity  as  supreme  lord  of  the  Church,  he  designed  to 
commend  to  their  reading  instead  of  the  Bible. 

He  now  laid  down  his  pen,  and,  with  infinite  compla- 
cency, looked  over  the  written  sheets,  which  were  to  be 
to  his  people  a  new  proof  of  his  paternal  love  and  care,  and 
so  convince  them  that  Henry  the  Eighth  was  not  only  the 
noblest  and  most  virtuous  of  kings,  but  also  the  wisest. 

But  this  reflection  failed  to  make  the  king  more  cheer- 
ful to-day;  perhaps  because  he  had  already  indulged  in  it 
too  frequently.  To  be  alone,  annoyed  and  disturbed  him 
— there  were  in  his  breast  so  many  secret  and  hidden 
voices,  wh< >.-•<•  whispers  he  dreaded,  and  which,  therefore, 
he  sought  to  drown — there  were  so  many  recollections  of 
blood,  which  over  and  again  rose  before  him,  however 
often  he  tried  to  wash  them  out  in  fresh  blood,  and 
which  the  king  was  afraid  of,  though  he  assumed  the  ap- 
pearance of  never  repenting,  never  feeling  disquietude. 

With  hasty  hand  he  touched  the  gold  bell  standing  by 
him,  and  his  face  brightened  as  lie  saw  the  door  open  im- 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COUET.  121 

mediately,  and  Earl  Douglas  make  his  appearance  on  the 
threshold. 

"  Oh,  at  length ! "  said  the  lord,  who  had  very  well 
understood  the  expression  of  Henry's  features;  "  at 
length,  the  king  condescends  to  be  gracious  to  his  people." 

"I  gracious?"  asked  the  king,  utterly  astonished. 
"Well,  how  am  I  so?" 

"By  your  majesty's  resting, .at  length  from  his  exer- 
tions, and  giving  a  little  thought  to  his  valuable  and  need- 
ful health.  When  you  remember,  sire,  that  England's 
weal  depends  solely  and  alone  on  the  weal  of  her  king, 
and  that  you  must  be  and  remain  healthy,  that  your  people 
likewise  may  be  healthy." 

The  king  smiled  with  satisfaction.  It  never  came  into 
his  head  to  doubt  the  earl's  words.  It  seemed  to  him  per- 
fectly natural  that  the  weal  of  his  people  depended  on  his 
person;  but  yet  it  was  always  a  lofty  and  beautiful  song, 
and  he  loved  to  have  his  courtiers  repeat  it. 

The  king,  as  we  have  said,  smiled,  but  there  was  some- 
thing unusual  in  that  smile,  which  did  not  escape  the  earl. 

"He  is  in  the  condition  of  a  hungry  anaconda,"  said 
Earl  Douglas  to  himself.  "  He  is  on  the  watch  for  prey, 
and  he  will  be  bright  and  lively  again  just  as  soon  as  he  has 
tasted  a  little  human  flesh  and  blood.  Ah,  luckily  we  are 
well  supplied  in  that  way.  Therefore,  we  will  render  unto 
the  king  what  is  the  king's.  But  we  must  be  cautious  and 
go  to  work  warily." 

He  approached  the  king  and  imprinted  a  kiss  on  his 
hand. 

"I  kiss  this  hand,"  said  he,  "which  has  been  to-day 
the  fountain  through  which  the  wisdom  of  the  head  has 
been  poured  forth  on  this  blessed  paper.  I  kiss  this  paper, 
which  will  announce  and  explain  to  happy  England  God's 
pure  and  unadulterated  word;  but  yet  I  say  let  this  suffice 
for  the-  present,  my  king;  take  rest;  remember "  awhile 
that  you  are  not  only  a  sage,  but  also  a  man." 

"  Yes  and  truly  a  weak  and  decrepit  one!  "  sighed  the 
9 


122  HENRY    VIIJ.    AMI    HIS 

king,  as  with  difficulty  he  essayed  to  rise,  and  in  so  doing 
leaned  so  heavily  and  the  earl's  arm  that  he  almost  broke 
down  under  the  monstrous  load. 

"  Decrepit!  "  said  Earl  Douglas,  reproachfully.  "  Your 
majesty  moves  to-day  with  as  much  ease  and  freedom  as 
a  youth,  and  my  arm  was  by  no  means  needed  to  help  you 
up." 

"Nevertheless,  we  are  growing  old!"  said  the  king, 
who,  from  his  weariness,  was  unusually  sentimental  and 
low-spirited  to-day. 

"Old!"  repeated  Earl  Douglas.  "Old,  with  those 
eyes  darting  fire,  and  that  lofty  brow,  and  that  face,  in 
every  feature  so  noble!  No,  your  majesty,  kings  have  this 
in  common  with  the  gods — they  never  grow  old." 

"  And  therein  they  resemble  parrots  to  a  hair! "  said 
John  Hey  wood,  who  just  then  entered  the  room.  "  I  own 
a  parrot  which  my  great-grandfather  inherited  from  his 
great-grandfather,  who  was  hair-dresser  to  Henry  the 
Fourth,  and  which  to-day  still  sings  with  the  same  volubil- 
ity as  he  did  a  hundred  years  ago:  '  Long  live  the  king! 
long  live  this  paragon  of  virtue,  sweetness,  beauty,  and 
mercy!  Long  live  the  king! '  He  has  cried  this  for  hun- 
dreds of  years,  and  he  has  repeated  it  for  Henry  the  Fifth 
and  Henry  the  Sixth,  for  Henry  the  Seventh  and  Henry 
the  Eighth!  And  wonderful,  the  kings  have  changed,  but 
the  song  of  praise  has  always  been  appropriate,  and  has 
ever  been  only  the  simple  truth!  Just  like  yours,  my 
Lord  Douglas!  Your  majesty  may  depend  upon  it,  he 
speaks  the  truth,  for  he  is  near  akin  to  my  parrot,  which 
always  calls  him  '  My  cousin,'  and  has  taught  him  his  im- 
mortal song  of  praise  to  kings." 

The  king  laughed,  while  Earl  Douglas  cast  at  John 
Heywood  a  sharp,  spiteful  look. 

"He  is  an  impudent  imp,  is  he  not,  Douglas?"  said 
the  king. 

"  He  i§  a  fool!  "  replied  he,  with  a  shrug. 

"  Exactly,  and  therefore  T  just  now  told  you  the  truth. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  133 

For  you  know  children  and  fools  speak  the  truth.  And  I 
became  a  fool  just  on  this  account,  that  the  king,  whom 
you  all  deceive  by  your  lies,  may  have  about  him  some 
creature,  besides  his  looking-glass,  to  tell  him  the  truth." 

"  Well,  and  what  truth  will  you  serve  up  for  me  to- 
day?" 

"  It  is  already  served,  your  majesty.  So  lay  aside  for  a 
little  your  regal  crown  and  your  high  priesthood,  and  con- 
clude to  be  for  awhile  a  carnivorous  beast.  It  is  very  easy 
to  become  a  king.  For  that,  nothing  more  is  necessary 
than  to  be  born  of  a  queen  under  a  canopy.  But  it  is  very 
difficult  to  be  a  man  who  has  a  good  digestion.  It  re- 
quires a  healthy  stomach  and  a  light  conscience.  Come, 
King  Henry,  and  let  us  see  whether  you  are  not  merely  a 
king,  but  also  a  man  that  has  a  good  stomach."  And  with 
a  merry  laugh  he  took  the  king's  other  arm  and  led  him 
with  the  earl  into  the  dining-room. 

The  king,  who  was  an  extraordinary  eater,  silently 
beckoned  his  suite  to  take  their  places  at  the  table,  after 
he  had  seated  himself  in  his  gilded  chair.  With  grave  and 
solemn  air  he  then  received  from  the  hands  of  the  master 
of  ceremonies  the  ivory  tablet  on  which  was  the  bill  of 
fare  for  the  day.  The  king's  dinner  was  a  solemn  and  im- 
portant affair.  A  multitude  of  post-wagons  and  couriers 
were  ever  on  the  way  to  bring  from  the  remotest  ends  of 
the  earth  dainties  for  the  royal  table.  The  bill  of  fare, 
therefore,  to-day,  as  ever,  exhibited  the  choicest  and  rarest 
dishes;  and  always  when  the  king  found  one  of  his  favorite 
ones  written  down  he  made  an  assenting  and  approving 
motion  of  the  head,  which  always  lighted  up  the  face  of 
the  master  of  ceremonies  like  a  sunbeam.  There  were 
birds'  nests  brought  from  the  East  Indies  by  a  fast-sailing 
vessel,  built  specially  for  the  purpose.  There  -were  hens 
from  Calcutta  and  truffles  from  Languedoc,  which  the 
poet-king,  Francis  the  First  of  France,  had  the  day  before 
sent  to  his  royal  brother  as  a  special  token  of  affection. 
There  was  the  sparkling  wine  of  Champagne,  and  the  fierj 


124  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

wine  of  the  Island  of  Cyprus,  which  the  Republic  of  Ven- 
ice had  eent  to  the  king  as  a  mark  of  respect.  There  were 
the  heavy  wines  of  the  Rhine,  which  looked  like  liquid 
gold,  and  diffused  the  fragrance  of  a  whole  bouquet  of 
flowers,  and  with  which  the  Protestant  princes  of  North- 
ern Germany  hoped  to  fuddle  the  king,  whom  they  would 
have  gladly  placed  at  the  head  of  their  league.  There, 
too,  were  the  monstrous,  gigantic  partridge  pastries,  which 
the  Duke  of  Burgundy  had  sent,  and  the  glorious  fruits  of 
the  south,  from  the  Spanish  coast,  with  which  the  Em- 
peror Charles  the  Fifth  supplied  the  King  of  England's 
table.  For  it  was  well  known  that,  in  order  to  make  the 
King  of  England  propitious,  it  was  necessary  first  to  satiate 
him;  that  his  palate  must  first  be  tickled,  in  order  to  gain 
his  head  or  his  heart. 

But  to-day  all  these  things  seemed  insufficient  to  give 
the  king  the  blissful  pleasure  which,  at  other  times,  was 
wont  to  be  with  him  When  he  sat  at  table.  He  heard  John 
Heywood's  jesta  and  biting  epigrams  with  a  melancholy 
smile,  and  a  cloud  was  on  his  brow. 

To  be  in  cheerful  humor,  the  king  absolutely  needed 
the  presence  of  ladies.  He  needed  them  as  the  hunter 
needs  the  roe  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  the  chase — that 
pleasure  which  consists  in  killing  the  defenceless  and  in 
declaring  war  against  the  innocent  and  peaceful. 

The  crafty  courtier,  Earl  Douglas,  readily  divined 
Henry's  dissatisfaction,  and  understood  the  secret  mean- 
ing of  his  frowns  and  sighs.  He  hoped  much  from  them, 
and  was  firmly  resolved  to  draw  some  advantage  therefrom, 
to  the  benefit  of  his  daughter,  and  the  harm  of  the  queen. 

"  Your  majesty,"  said  he,  "  I  am  just  on  the  point  of 
turning  traitor,  and  accusing  my  king  of  an  injustice." 

The  king  turned  his  flashing  eyes  upon  him,  and  put 
his  hand,  sparkling  with  jewelled  rings,  to  the  golden  gob- 
let filled  with  Rhenish  wine. 

"  Of  an  injustice— me— your  king?  "  asked  he,  with 
stammering  tongue. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COUET.  125 

"  Yes,  of  an  injustice,  inasmuch  as  you  are  for  me 
God's  visible  representative  on  earth.  I  would  blame  God 
if  He  withdrew  from  us  for  a  day  the  brightness  of  the  sun, 
the  gorgeousness  and  perfume  of  His  flowers,  for  since  we 
children  of  men  are  accustomed  to  enjoy  these  glories,  we 
have  in  a  certain  measure  gained  a  right  to  them.  So  I 
accuse  you  because  you  have  withdrawn  from  us  the  em- 
bodied flowers  and  the  incarnate  suns;  because  you  have 
been  so  cruel,  sire,  as  to  send  the  queen  to  Epping  Forest." 

"  Not  so;  the  queen  wanted  to  ride,"  said  Henry,  peev- 
ishly. "  The  spring  weather  attracted  her,  and  since  I, 
alas!  do  not  possess  God's  exalted  attribute  of  ubiquity,  I 
was,  no  doubt,  obliged  to  come  to  the  resolution  of  being 
deprived  of  her  presence.  There  is  no  horse  capable  of 
carrying  the  King  of  England." 

"  There  is  Pegasus,  however,  and  in  masterly  manner 
you  know  how  to  manage  him.  But  how,  your  majesty! 
the  queen  wanted  to  ride,  though  she  was  deprived  of  your 
presence  thereby?  She  wanted  to  ride,  though  this  pleas- 
ure-ride was  at  the  same  time  a  separation  from  you?  Oh 
how  cold  and  selfish  are  women's  hearts!  Were  I  a  wom- 
an, I  would  never  depart  from  your  side,  I  would  covert  no 
greater  happiness  than  to  be  near  you,  and  to  listen  to  that 
high  and  exalted  wisdom  which  pours  from  your  inspired 
lips.  Were  I  a  woman " 

"Earl,  I  opine  that  your  wish  is  perfectly  fulfilled/'' 
said  John  Hey  wood  seriously.  "  You  make  in  all  respects 
the  impression  of  an  old  woman!  " 

All  laughed.  But  the  king  did  not  laugh;  he  re- 
mained serious  and  looked  gloomily  before  him. 

"It  is  true,"  muttered  he,  "she  seemed  excited  with 
joy  about  this  excursion,  and  in  her  eyes  shone,  a  fire  I  have 
seldom  seen  there.  There  must  be  some  peculiar  circum- 
stance connected  with  this  ride.  Who  accompanied  the 
queen?" 

"  Princess  Elizabeth,"  said  John  Heywood,  who  had 
heard  everything,  and  saw  clearly  the  arrow  that  the  earl 


126  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

had  shot  at  the  queen.  "  Princess  Elizabeth,  her  true  and 
dear  friend,  who  never  leaves  her  side.  Besides,  her 
maids  of  honor,  who,  like  the  dragon  in  the  fable,  keep 
watch  over  the  beautiful  princess." 

"Who  else  is  in  the  queen's  company?"  inquired 
Henry,  sullenly. 

"The  master  of  horse,  Earl  of  Sudley,"  said  Douglas, 
"  and " 

"  That  is  an  observation  in  the  highest  degree  superflu- 
ous," interrupted  John  Heywood;  "  it  is  perfectly  well 
understood  by  itself  that  the  master  of  horse  accompanies 
the  queen.  That  is  just  as  much  his  office  as  it  is  yours  to 
sing  the  song  of  your  cousin,  my  parrot." 

"  He  is  right,"  said  the  king  quickly.  "  Thomas  Sey- 
mour must  accompany  her,  and  it  is  my  will  also.  Thomas 
Seymour  is  a  faithful  servant,  and  this  he  has  inherited 
from  his  sister  Jane,  my  much  loved  queen,  now  at  rest 
with  God,  that  he  is  devoted  to  his  king  in  steadfast  affec- 
tion." 

"  The  time  has  not  yet  come  when  one  may  assail  the 
Seymours,"  thought  the  earl.  "  The  king  is  yet  attached 
to  them;  so  he  will  feel  hostile  toward  the  foes  of  the 
Seymours.  Let  us  then  begin  our  attack  on  Henry  How- 
ard— that  is  to  say,  on  the  queen." 

"  Who  accompanied  the  queen  besides? "  inquired 
Henry  the  Eighth,  emptying  the  golden  beaker  at  a 
draught,  as  though  he  would  thereby  cool  the  fire  which 
already  began  to  blaze  within  him.  But  the  fiery  Rhenish 
wine  instead  of  cooling  only  heated  him  yet  more;  it 
drove,  like  a  tempest,  the  fire  kindled  in  his  jealous  heart 
in  bright  flames  to  hie  head,  and  made  his  brain  glow  like 
hia  heart. 

"  Who  else  accompanied  her  beside  these?  "  asked  Earl 
Douglas  carelessly.  "  Well,  I  think,  the  lord  chamberlain. 
Earl  of  Surrey." 

A  dark  scown  gathered  on  the  king's  brow.  The  lion 
had  scanted  his  prey. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  127 

"  The  lord  chamberlain  is  not  in  the  qneen'g  train! " 
said  John  Heywood  earnestly. 

"  No,"  exclaimed  Earl  Douglas.  "  The  poor  earl. 
That  will  make  him  very  sad." 

"  And  why  think  you  that  will  make  him  sad?  "  asked 
the  king  in  a  voice  very  like  the  roll  of  distant  thunder. 

"  Because  the  Earl  of  Surrey  is  accustomed  to  live  in 
the  sunshine  of  royal  favor,  sire;  because  he  resembles 
that  flower  which  always  turns  its  head  to  the  sun,  and  re- 
ceives from  it  vigor,  color,  and  brilliancy." 

"  Let  him  take  care  that  the  sun  does  not  scorch  him," 
muttered  the  king. 

"  Earl,"  said  John  Heywood,  "  you  must  put  on  your 
spectacles  so  that  you  can  see  better.  This  time  you  have 
confounded  the  sun  with  one  of  its  satellites.  Earl  Surrey 
is  far  too  prudent  a  man  to  be  so  foolish  as  to  gaze  at  the 
sun,  and  thereby  blind  his  eyes  and  parch  his  brain.  And 
so  he  is  satisfied  to  worship  one  of  the  planets  that  circle 
round  the  sun." 

"  What  does  the  fool  intend  to  say  by  that?  "  asked 
the  earl  contemptuously. 

"  The  wise  will  thereby  give  you  to  understand  that 
you  have  this  time  mistaken  your  daughter  for  the  queen," 
said  John  Heywood,  emphasizing  sharply  every  word, 
"  and  that  it  has  happened  to  you,  as  to  many  a  great 
astrologer,  you  have  taken  a  planet  for  a  sun." 

Earl  Douglas  cast  a  dark,  spiteful  look  at  John  Hey- 
wood, who  answered  it  with  one  equally  piercing  and  furi- 
ous. 

Their  eyes  were  firmly  fixed  on  each  other's,  and 
in  those  eyes  they  both  read  all  the  hatred  and  all  the 
bitterness  which  were  working  in  the  depths  of  their 
souls.  Both  knew  that  they  had  from  that  hour 
sworn  to  each  other  an  enmity  burning  and  full  of 
danger. 

The  king  had  noticed  nothing  of  this  dumb  but  signifi- 
cant scene.  He  was  looking  down,  brooding  over  his 


128  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

gloomy  thoughts,  and  the  storm-clouds  rolling  around  his 
brow  gathered  darker  and  darker. 

With  an  impetuous  movement  he  arose  from  his  seat, 
and  this  time  he  needed  no  helping  hand  to  stand  up. 
Wrath  was  the  mighty  lever  that  threw  him  up. 

The  courtiers  arose  from  their  seats  in  silence,  and  no- 
body besides  John  Heywood  observed  the  look  of  under- 
standing which  Earl  Douglas  exchanged  with  Gardiner, 
bishop  of  Winchester,  and  Wriothesley,  the  lord  chan- 
cellor. 

"  Ah,  why  is  not  Cranmer  here?  "  said  John  Heywood 
to  himself.  "  I  see  the  three  tiger-cats  prowling,  so  there 
must  be  prey  to  devour  somewhere.  Well,  I  will  at 
any  rate  keep  my  ears  open  wide  enough  to  hear  their 
roaring." 

"  The  dinner  is  over,  gentlemen! "  said  the  king 
hastily;  and  the  courtiers  and  gentlemen  in  waiting  silent- 
ly withdrew  to  the  anteroom. 

Only  Earl  Douglas,  Gardiner,  and  Wriothesley,  re- 
mained in  the  hall,  while  John  Heywood  crept  softly  into 
the  king's  cabinet  and  concealed  himself  behind  the  hang- 
ing of  gold  brocade  which  covered  the  door  leading  from 
the  king's  study  to  the  outer  anteroom. 

"  My  lords,"  said  the  king,  "  follow  me  into  my  cabinet. 
As  we  are  dull,  the  most  advisable  thing  for  us  to  do  is  to 
divert  ourselves  while  we  occupy  ourselves  with  the  weal 
of  our  beloved  subjects,  and  consult  concerning  their  hap- 
piness and  what  is  conducive  to  their  welfare.  Follow 
me  then,  and  we  will  hold  a  general  consultation." 

"  Earl  Douglas,  your  arm!  "  and  as  the  king  leaned  on 
it  and  walked  slowly  toward  the  cabinet,  at  the  entrance 
of  which  the  lord  chancellor  and  the  Bishop  of  Winchester 
were  waiting  for  him,  he  asked  in  a  low  voice:  "  You  say 
that  Henry  Howard  dares  ever  intrude  himself  into  the 
queen's  presence?" 

"  Sire,  I  did  not  say  that;  I  meant  only  that  he  is  con- 
stantly to  be  seen  in  the  queen's  presence." 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

4 

"  Oh,  you  mean  that  she  perhaps  authorizes  him  to  do 
so/'  said  the  king,  grinding  his  teeth. 

"  Sire,  I  hold  the  queen  to  be  a  noble  and  dutiful 
wife." 

"  I  should  be  quite  inclined  to  lay  your  head  at  your 
feet  if  you  did  not !  "  said  the  king,  in  whose  face  the  first 
lightning  of  the  bursting  cloud  of  wrath  began  to  flash. 

"  My  head  belongs  to  the  king! "  said  Earl  Douglas  re- 
spectfully. "  Let  him  do  with  it  as  he  pleases." 

"  But  Howard — you  mean,  then,  that  Howard  loves 
the  queen?" 

"  Yes,  sire,  I  dare  affirm  that." 

"  Now,  by  the  Mother  of  God,  I  will  tread  the  serpent 
under  my  feet,  as  I  did  his  sister! "  exclaimed  Henry, 
fiercely.  "  The  Howards  are  an  ambitious,  dangerous, 
and  hypocritical  race." 

"A  race  that  never  forgets  that  a  daughter  of  their 
house  has  sat  on  your  throne." 

"  But  they  shall  forget  it,"  cried  the  king,  "  and  I 
must  wash  these  proud  and  haughty  thoughts  out  of  their 
brain  with  their  own  blood.  They  have  not  then  learned, 
from  the  example  of  their  sister,  how  I  punish  disloyalty. 
This  insolent  race  needs  another  fresh  example.  Well, 
they  shall  have  it.  Only  put  the  means  in  my  hand, 
Douglas,  only  a  little  hook  that  I  can  strike  into  the  flesh 
of  these  Howards,  and  I  tell  you,  with  that  little  hook  I 
will  drag  them  to  the  scaffold.  Give  me  proof  of  the  earl's 
criminal  love,  and  I  promise  you  that  for  this  I  will  grant 
you  what  you  ask." 

"  Sire,  I  will  give  you  this  proof." 

"When?" 

"  In  four  days,  sire!  At  the  great  contest  of  the  poets, 
which  you  have  ordered  to  take  place  on  the  queen's  birth- 
day." 

"I  thank  you,  Douglas,  I  thank  you,"  said  the  king 
with  an  expression  almost  of  joy.  In  four  days  you  will 
have  rid  me  of  the  troublesome  race  of  Howards." 


130  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

"  But,  sire,  if  I  cannot  give  the  proof  you  demand  with- 
out accusing  one  other  person?  " 

The  king,  who  was  just  about  to  pass  the  door  of  his 
cabinet,  stood  still,  and  looked  steadily  into  the  earl's 
eyes.  "  Then,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  peculiarly  awful,  "  you 
mean  the  queen?  Well,  if  she  is  guilty,  I  will  punish  her. 
God  has  placed  the  sword  in  my  hand  that  I  may  bear  it  to 
His  honor  and  to  the  terror  of  mankind.  If  the  queen  has 
sinned,  she  will  be  punished.  Furnish  me  the  proof  of 
Howard's  guilt,  and  do  not  trouble  yourself  if  we  thereby 
discover  the  guilt  of  others.  We  shall  not  timidly  shrink 
back,  but  let  justice  take  its  course." 


CHAPTER   XIV. 
THE  QUEEN'S  FRIEND. 

EARL  DOUGLAS,  Gardiner,  and  Wriothesley,  had  ac- 
companied the  king  into  his  cabinet. 

At  last  the  great  blow  was  to  be  struck,  and  the  plan  of 
the  three  enemies  of  the  queen,  so  long  matured  and  well- 
considered,  was  to  be  at  length  put  in  execution.  There- 
fore, as  they  followed  the  king,  who  with  unwonted  activ- 
ity preceded  them,  they  exchanged  with  each  other  one 
more  look  of  mutual  understanding. 

By  that  look  Earl  Douglas  said,  "  The  hour  has  come. 
Be  ready!" 

And  the  looks  of  his  friends  responded,  "  We  are 
ready! " 

John  Heywood,  who,  hidden  behind  the  hangings,  saw 
and  observed  everything,  could  not  forbear  a  slight  shud- 
der at  the  sight  of  these  four  men,  whose  dark  and  hard 
features  seemed  incapable  of  being  touched  by  any  ray  of 
pity  or  mercy. 


B.ENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COUET.  131 

There  was  first  the  king,  that  man  with  the  Protean 
countenance,  across  which  storm  and  sunshine,  God  and 
the  devil  traced  each  minute  new  lines;  who  could  be  now 
an  inspired  enthusiast,  and  now  a  bloodthirsty  tyrant;  now 
a  sentimental  wit,  and  anon  a  wanton  reveler;  the  king, 
on  whose  constancy  nobody,  not  even  himself,  could  rely; 
ever  ready,  as  it  suited  his  caprice  or  his  interest,  to  betray 
his  most  faithful  friend,  and  to  send  to  the  scaffold  to-day 
those  whom  but  yesterday  he  had  caressed  and  assured  of 
his  unchanging  affection;  the  king,  who  considered  him- 
self privileged  to  indulge  with  impunity  his  low  appetites, 
his  revengeful  impulses,  his  bloodthirsty  inclinations;  who 
was  devout  from  vanity,  because  devotion  afforded  him  an 
opportunity  of  identifying  himself  with  God,  and  of  re- 
garding himself  in  some  sort  the  patron  of  Deity. 

There  was  Earl  Douglas,  the  crafty  courtier  with  ever- 
smiling  face,  who  seemed  to  love  everybody,  while  in  fact 
he  hated  all;  who  assumed  the  appearance  of  perfect 
harmlessness,  and  seemed  to  be  indifferent  to  everything 
but  pleasure,  while  nevertheless  secretly  he  held  in  his 
hand  all  the  strings  of  that  great  net  which  encompassed 
alike  court  and  king — Earl  Douglas,  whom  the  king  loved 
for  this  alone,  because  he  generally  gave  him  the  title  of 
grand  and  wise  high-priest  of  the  Church,  and  who  was, 
notwithstanding  this,  Loyola's  vicegerent,  and  a  true  and 
faithful  adherent  of  that  pope  who  had  damned  the  king 
as  a  degenerate  son  and  given  him  over  to  the  wrath  of 
God. 

Lastly,  there  were  the  two  men  with  dark,  malignant 
looks,  with  inflexible,  stony  faces,  which  were  never  lighted 
up  by  a  smile,  or  a  gleam  of  joy;  who  always  condemned, 
always  punished,  and  whose  countenances  never  bright- 
ened save  when  the  dying  shriek  of  the  condemned,  or 
the  groans  of  some  poor  wretch  upon  the  rack,  fell 
upon  their  ears;  who  were  the  tormentors  of  humanity, 
while  they  called  themselves  the  ministers  and  servants 
of  God. 


132  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

"  Sire,"  said  Gardiner,  when  the  king  had  slowly  taken 
his  seat  upon  the  ottoman — "  sire,  let  us  first  ask  the  bless- 
ing of  the  Lord  our  God  on  this  hour  of  conference.  May 
God,  who  is  love,  but  who  is  wrath  also,  may  He  enlighten 
and  bless  us! " 

The  king  devoutly  folded  his  hands,  but  it  was  only  a 
prayer  of  wrath  that  animated  his  soul. 

"  Grant,  0  God,  that  I  may  punish  Thine  enemies,  and 
everywhere  dash  in  pieces  the  guilty !  " 

"  Amen! "  said  Gardiner,  as  he  repeated  with  solemn 
earnestness  the  king's  words. 

"  Send  us  the  thunderbolt  of  Thy  wrath,"  prayed 
Wriothesley,  "  that  we  may  teach  the  world  to  recognize 
Thy  power  and  glory!  " 

Earl  Douglas  took  care  not  to  pray  aloud.  What  he 
had  to  request  of  God  was  not  allowed  to  reach  the  ear  of 
the  king. 

"  Grant,  0  God,"  prayed  he  in  his  heart,  "  grant  that 
my  work  may  prosper,  and  that  this  dangerous  queen  may 
ascend  the  scaffold,  to  make  room  for  my  daughter,  who  is 
deetined  to  bring  back  into  the  arms  of  our  holy  mother, 
the  Church,  this  guilty  and  faithless  king." 

"And  now,  my  lords,"  said  the  king,  fetching  a  long 
breath,  "  now  tell  me  how  stand  matters  in  my  kingdom, 
and  at  my  court?" 

"  Badly,"  said  Gardiner.  "  Unbelief  again  lifts  up  its 
head.  It  is  a  hydra.  If  you  strike  off  one  of  its  heads, 
two  others  immediately  spring  up  in  its  place.  This 
cursed  sect  of  reformists  and  atheists  multiplies  day  by 
day,  and  our  prisons  are  no  longer  sufficient  to  contain 
them;  and  wlu«n  we  drag  thorn  to  the  stake,  their  joyful 
and  courageous  death  always  makes  fresh  proselytes  and 
fresh  apostates." 

"Yes,  matters  are  bad,"  said  the  Lord  Chancellor 
Wriothesley;  "  in  vain  have  we  promised  pardon  and  for- 
giveness to  all  those  who  would  return  poniimt  ami  con- 
trite; they  laugh  to  scorn  our  offers  of  pardon,  and  prefer 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  133 

a  death  of  torture  to  the  royal  clemency.  What  avails  it 
that  we  have  burnt  to  death  Miles  Coverdale,  who  had  the 
hardihood  to  translate  the  Bible?  His  death  appears  to 
have  been  only  the  tocsin  that  aroused  other  fanatics,  and, 
without  our  being  able  to  divine  or  suspect  where  all  these 
books  come  from,  they  have  overflowed  and  deluged  the 
whole  land;  and  we  now  already  have  more  than  four 
translations  of  the  Bible.  The  people  read  them  with 
eagerness;  and  the  corrupt  seek  of  mental  illumination 
and  free-thinking  waxes  daily  more  powerful  and  more 
pernicious." 

"  And  now  you,  Earl  Douglas?  "  asked  the  king,  when 
the  lord  chancellor  ceased.  "  These  noble  lords  have  told 
me  how  matters  stand  in  my  kingdom.  You  will  advise 
me  what  is  the  aspect  of  things  at  my  court." 

"  Sire,"  said  Earl  Douglas,  slowly  and  solemnly — for  he 
wished  each  word  to  sink  into  the  king's  breast  like  a  poi- 
soned arrow — "sire,  the  people  but  follow  the  example 
which  the  court  sets  them.  How  can  you  require  faith  of 
the  people,  when  under  their  own  eyes  the  court  turns 
faith  to  ridicule,  and  when  infidels  find  at  court  aid  and 
protection?" 

"  You  accuse,  but  give  no  names,"  said  the  king,  impa- 
tiently. "  Who  dares  at  my  court  be  a  protector  of  here- 
tics?" 

"  Cranmer,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury! "  said  the 
three  men,  as  with  one  mouth.  The  signal-word  was 
spoken,  the  standard  of  a  bloody  struggle  set  up. 

"  Cranmer?  "  repeated  the  king  thoughtfully.  "  He 
has,  however,  always  been  a  faithful  servant  and  an  atten- 
tive friend  to  me.  It  was  he  who  delivered  me  from  the 
unholy  bond  with  Catharine  of  Aragon:  it  was  he  too  who 
warned  me  of  Catharine  Howard,  and  furnished  me  with 
proofs  of  her  guilt.  Of  what  misdemeanor  do  you  accuse 
him?  " 

"He  denies  the  six  articles,"  said  Gardiner,  whose 
malicious  face  now  glowed  with  bitter  hatred.  "  He  rep- 


134  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

rebates  auricular  confession,  and  believes  not  that  the 
voluntarily  taken  vows  of  celibacy  are  binding." 

"  If  he  does  that,  then  he  is  a  traitor!  "  cried  the  king, 
who  was  fond  of  always  throwing  a  reverence  for  chastity 
and  modesty,  as  a  kind  of  holy  mantle,  over  his  own  profli- 
gate and  lewd  life;  and  whom  nothing  more  embittered 
than  to  encounter  another  on  that  path  of  vice  which  he 
himself,  by  virtue  of  his  royal  prerogative,  and  his  crown 
by  the  grace  of  God,  could  travel  in  perfect  safety. 

"  If  he  does  that,  then  he  is  a  traitor!  My  arm  of 
vengeance  will  smite  him! "  repeated  the  king  again. 
"  It  was  I  who  gave  my  people  the  six  articles,  as  a  sacred 
and  authoritative  declaration  of  faith;  and  I  will  not  suf- 
fer this  only  true  and  right  doctrine  to  be  assailed  and  ob- 
scured. But  you  are  mistaken,  my  lords.  I  am  acquaint- 
ed with  Cranmer,  and  I  know  that  he  is  loyal  and  faith- 
ful." 

"  And  yet  it  is  he,"  said  Gardiner,  "  who  confirms  these 
heretics  in  their  obduracy  and  stiff-neckedness.  He  is  the 
cause  why  these  lost  wretches  do  not,  from  the  fear  of 
divine  wrath  at  least,  return  to  you,  their  sovereign  and 
high-priest.  For  he  preaches  to  them  that  God  is  love  and 
mercy;  he  teaches  them  that  Christ  came  into  the  world 
in  order  to  bring  to  the  world  love  and  the  forgiveness  of 
sins,  and  that  they  alone  are  Christ's  true  disciples  and 
servants  who  emulate  His  love.  Do  you  not  see  then,  sire, 
that  this  is  a  covert  and  indirect  accusation  against  your- 
self, and  that  while  he  praises  pardoning  love,  he  at  the 
same  time  condemns  and  accuses  your  righteous  and  puni- 
tory  wrath?" 

The  king  did  not  answer  immediately,  but  sat  with  his 
eyes  fixed,  grave  and  pondering.  The  fanatical  priest  had 
gone  too  far;  and,  without  being  aware  of  it,  it  was  he  him- 
self who  was  that  very  instant  accusing  the  king. 

Earl  Douglas  felt  this.  He  read  in  the  king's  face 
that  he  was  just  then  in  one  of  those  moments  of  con- 
trition which  sometimes  came  over  him  when  his  soul  held 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  135 

involuntary  intercourse  with  itself.  It  was  necessary  to 
arouse  the  sleeping  tiger  and  point  out  to  him  some  prey, 
so  as  to  make  him  again  bloodthirsty. 

"  It  would  be  proper  if  Cranmer  preached  only  Chris- 
tian love,"  said  he.  "  Then  would  he  be  only  a  faithful 
servant  of  his  Lord,  and  a  follower  of  his  king.  But  he 
gives  to  the  world  an  abominable  example  of  a  disobedient 
and  perfidious  servant;  he  denies  the  truth  of  the  six  arti- 
cles, not  in  words,  but  in  deeds.  You  have  ordered  that 
the  priests  of  the  Church  remain  single.  Now,  then,  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury  is  married! " 

"Married!"  cried  the  king,  his  visage  glowing  with 
rage.  "  Ah,  I  will  chastise  him,  this  transgressor  of  my 
holy  laws!  A  minister  of  the  Church,  a  priest,  whose 
whole  life  should  be  naught  but  an  exhibition  of  holiness, 
an  endless  communion  with  God,  and  whose  high  calling  it 
is  to  renounce  fleshly  lusts  and  earthly  desires!  And  he 
is  married!  I  will  make  him  feel  the  whole  weight  of  my 
royal  anger!  He  shall  learn  from  his  own  experience  that 
the  king's  justice  is  inexorable,  and  that  in  every  case  he 
smites  the  head  of  the  sinner,  be  he  who  he  may!  " 

"  Your  majesty  is  the  embodiment  of  wisdom  and  jus- 
tice," said  Douglas,  "  and  your  faithful  servants  well  know, 
if  the  royal  justice  is  sometimes  tardy  in  smiting  guilty  of- 
fenders, this  happens  not  through  your  will,  but  through 
your  servants  who  venture  to  stay  the  arm  of  justice." 

"  When  and  where  has  this  happened?  "  asked  Henry; 
and  his  face  flushed  with  rage  and  excitement.  "  Where 
is  the  offender  whom  I  have  not  punished?  Where  in  my 
realm  lives  a  being  who  has  sinned  against  God  or  his  king, 
and  whom  I  have  not  dashed  to  atoms?  " 

"  Sire,"  said  Gardiner  solemnly,  "  Anne  Askew  is  yet 
alive." 

"  She  lives  to  mock  at  your  wisdom  and  to  scoff  at  your 
holy  creed!  "  cried  Wriothesley. 

"  She  lives,  because  Bishop  Cranmer  wills  that  she 
should  not  die,"  said  Douglas,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 


13t)  UE.NRY    Vlll.    A.ND    HIS    COURT. 

The  king  broke  out  into  a  short,  dry  laugh.  "  Ah, 
Cranmer  wills  not  that  Anne  Askew  die! "  said  he,  sneer- 
ing. "  He  wills  not  that  this  girl,  who  has  so  fearfully 
offended  against  her  king,  and  against  God,  should  be 
punished  1 " 

"  -Yes,  she  has  offended  fearfully,  and  yet  two  years 
have  passed  away  since  her  offence,"  cried  Gardiner — "  two 
years  which  she  has  spent  in  deriding  God  and  mocking 
the  king! " 

"  Ah,"  said  the  king,  "  we  have  still  hoped  to  turn  this 
young,  misguided  creature  from  the  ways  of  sin  and  error 
to  the  path  of  wisdom  and  repentance.  We  wished  for 
once  to  give  our  people  a  shining  example  of  our  willing- 
ness to  forgive  those  who  repent  and  renounce  their 
heresy,  and  to  restore  them  to  a  participation  of  our  royal 
favor.  Therefore  it  was  that  we  commissioned  you, 
my  lord  bishop,  by  virtue  of  your  prayers  and  your 
forcible  and  convincing  words,  to  pluck  this  poor  child 
from  the  claws  of  the  devil,  who  has  charmed  her 
ear." 

"  But  she  is  unbending,"  said  Gardiner,  grinding  his 
teeth.  "  In  vain  have  I  depicted  to  her  the  pains  of  hell, 
which  await  her  if  she  return  not  to  the  faith;  in  vain 
have  I  subjected  her  to  every  variety  of  torture  and  pen- 
ance; in  vain  have  I  sent  to  her  in  prison  other  converts, 
and  had  them  pray  with  her  night  and  day  incessantly; 
she  remains  unyielding,  hard  as  stone,  and  neither  the  fear 
of  punishment  nor  the  prospect  of  freedom  and  happiness 
has  the  power  to  soften  that  marble  heart." 

"  There  is  one  means  yet  untried,"  said  Wriothesley — 
"  a  means,  moreover,  which  is  a  more  effective  preacher  of 
repentance  than  the  most  enthusiastic  orators  and  the 
most  fervent  prayers,  and  which  I  have  to  thank  for  bring- 
ing back  to  God  and  the  faith  many  of  the  most  hardened 
heretics." 

"  And  this  means  is " 

"  The  rack,  your  majesty." 


HENRY    VXII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  137 

"Ah,  the  rack!"  replied  the  king,  with,  an  involun- 
tary shudder. 

"  All  means  are  good  that  lead  to  the  holy  end! "  said 
Gardiner,  devoutly  folding  his  hands. 

"  The  soul  must  he  saved,  though  the  body  be  pierced 
with  wounds! "  cried  Wriothesley. 

"  The  people  must  be  convinced,"  said  Douglas,  "  that 
the  lofty  spirit  of  the  king  spares  not  even  those  who  are 
under  the  protection  of  influential  and  might  personages. 
The  people  murmur  that  this  time  justice  is  not  permitted 
to  prevail,  because  Archbishop  Cranmer  protects  Anne 
Askew,  and  the  queen  is  her  friend." 

"The  queen  is  never  the  friend  of  a  criminal!"  said 
Henry,  vehemently. 

"  Perchance  she  does  not  consider  Anne  Askew  a  crimi- 
nal," responded  Earl  Douglas,  with  a  slight  smile.  "  It  is 
known,  indeed,  that  the  queen  is  a  great  friend  of  the 
Eeformation;  and  the  people,  who  dare  not  call  her  a  her- 
etic— the  people  call  her  '  the  Protestant.' ': 

"  Is  it,  then,  really  believed  that  it  is  Catharine  who 
protects  Anne  Askew,  and  keeps  her  from  the  stake?  " 
inquired  the  king,  thoughtfully. 

"  It  is  so  thought,  your  majesty." 

"  They  shall  soon  see  that  they  are  mistaken,  and  that 
Henry  the  Eighth  well  deserves  to  be  called  the  Defender 
of  the  Faith  and  the  Head  of  his  Church!  "  cried  the  king, 
with  burning  rage.  "For  when  have  I  shown  myself  so 
long-suffering  and  weak  in  punishing,  that  people  believe 
me  inclined  to  pardon  and  deal  gently?  Have  I  not  sent 
to  the  scaffold  even  Thomas  More  and  Cromwell,  two  re- 
nowned and  in  a  certain  respect  noble  and  high-minded 
men,  because  they  dared  defy  my  supremacy  and  oppose 
the  doctrine  and  ordinance  which  I  commanded  them  to 
believe?  Have  I  not  sent  to  the  block  two  of  my  queens — 
two  beautiful  young  women,  in  whom  my  heart  was  well 
pleased,  even  when  I  punished  them — because  they  h.ad 
provoked  my  wrath?  Who,  after  such  brilliant  example? 
10 


138  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

of  our  annihilating  justice,  who  dare  accuse  us  of  for- 
bearance? " 

"  But  at  that  time,  sire,"  said  Douglas,  in  his  soft,  in- 
sinuating voice,  "  but  at  that  time  no  queen  as  yet  stood 
at  your  side  who  called  heretics  true  believers,  and  fa- 
vored traitors  with  her  friendship." 

The  king  frowned,  and  his  wrathful  look  encountered 
the  friendly  and  submissive  countenance  of  the  earl. 
"You  know  I  hate  these  covert  attacks,"  said  he.  "If 
you  can  tax  the  queen  with  any  crime,  well  now,  do  so. 
If  you  cannot,  hold  your  peace!  " 

"  The  queen  is  a  noble  and  virtuous  lady,"  said  the 
earl,  "  only  she  sometimes  permits  herself  to  be  led  away 
by  her  magnanimous  spirit.  "  Or  how,  your  majesty,  can 
it  possibly  be  with  your  permission  that  my  lady  the  queen 
maintains  a  correspondence  with  Anne  Askew?" 

"What  say  you?  The  queen  in  correspondence  with 
Anne  Askew? "  cried  the  king  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 
"  That  is  a  lie,  a  shameless  lie,  hatched  up  to  ruin  the 
queen;  for  it  is  very  well  known  that  the  poor  king,  who 
has  been  so  often  deceived,  so  often  imposed  upon,  be- 
lieves himself  to  have  at  last  found  in  this  woman  a  being 
whom  he  can  trust,  and  in  whom  he  can  put  faith.  And 
they  grudge  him  that.  They  wish  to  strip  him  of  this 
last  hope  also,  that  his  heart  may  harden  entirely  to  stone, 
and  no  emotion  of  pity  evermore  find  access  to  him.  Ah, 
Douglas,  Douglas,  beware  of  my  wrath,  if  you  cannot  prove 
what  you  say! " 

"  Sire,  I  can  prove  it!  For  Lady  Jane  herself,  no 
longer  ago  than  yesterday,  was  made  to  give  up  a  note 
from  Anne  Askew  to  the  queen." 

The  king  remained  silent  for  a  while,  and  gazed  fixedly 
on  the  ground.  His  three  confidants  observed  him  with 
breathless,  trembling  expectation. 

At  length  the  king  raised  his  head  again,  and  turned 
his  gaze,  which  was  now  grave  and  steady,  upon  the  lord 
chancellor. 


HENKif    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  139 

"My  Lord  Chancellor  Wriothesley,"  said  he,  "I  em- 
power you  to  conduct  Anne  Askew  to  the  torture-room, 
and  try  whether  the  torments  which  are  prepared  for  the 
body  are  perchance  able  to  bring  this  erring  soul  to  an 
acknowledgment  of  her  faults.  My  Lord  Bishop  Gardi- 
ner, I  promise  my  word  that  I  will  give  attention  to  your 
accusation  against  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and 
that,  if  it  be  well  founded,  he  shall  not  escape  punishment. 
My  Lord  Douglas,  I  will  give  my  people  and  all  the  world 
proof  that  I  am  still  God's  righteous  and  avenging  vice- 
gerent on  earth,  and  that  no  consideration  can  restrain  my 
wrath,  no  after-thought  stay  my  arm,  whenever  it  is  ready 
to  fall  and  smite  the  head  of  the  guilty.  And  now,  my 
lords,  let  us  declare  this  session  at  an  end.  Let  us  breathe 
a  little  from  these  exertions,  and  seek  some  recreation  for 
one  brief  hour. 

"  My  Lords  Gardiner  and  Wriothesley,  you  are  now  at 
liberty.  You,  Douglas,  will  accompany  me  into  the  small 
reception-room.  I  want  to  see  bright  and  laughing  faces 
around  me.  Call  John  Heywood,  and  if  you  meet  any 
ladies  in  the  palace,  of  course  I  beg  them  to  shed  on  us 
a  little  of  that  sunshine  which  you  say  is  peculiarly 
woman's." 

He  laughed,  and,  leaning  on  the  earl's  arm,  left  the 
cabinet. 

Gardiner  and  Wriothesley  stood  there  in  silence, 
watching  the  king,  who  slowly  and  heavily  traversed  the 
adjacent  hall,  and  whose  cheery  and  laughing  voice  came 
ringing  back  to  them. 

"  He  is  a  weathercock,  turning  every  moment  from 
side  to  side,"  said  Gardiner,  with  a  contemptuous  shrug  of 
the  shoulders. 

"  He  calls  himself  God's  sword  of  vengeance,  but  he  is 
nothing  more  than  a  weak  tool,  which  we  bend  and  use  at 
our  will,"  muttered  Wriothesley,  with  a  hoarse  laugh. 
"  Poor,  pitiful  fool,  deeming  himself  so  mighty  and  sturdy; 
imagining  himself  a  free  king,  ruling  by  his  sovereign  will 


HEXRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COUKT. 

aloue,  and  }fet  he  is  but  our  servant  and  drudge!  Our 
great  work  is  approaching  its  end,  and  we  shall  one  day 
triumph.  Anne  Aske\v's  death  is  the  sign  of  a  new  cove- 
nant, which  will  deliver  England  and  trample  the  heretics 
like  dust  beneath  our  feet.  And  when  at  length  we  shall 
have  put  down  Cranmer,  and  brought  Catharine  Parr  to 
the  scaffold,  then  will  we  give  King  Henry  a  queen  who 
will  reconcile  him  with  God  and  the  Church,  out  of  which 
is  no  salvation." 

"Amen,  so  be  it!"  said  Gardiner;  and  arm  in  arm 
they  both  left  the  cabinet. 

Deep  stillness  now  reigned  in  that  little  spot,  and  no- 
body saw  John  Hey  wood  as  he  now  came  from  behind  the 
hanging,  and,  completely  worn  out  and  faint,  slipped  for  a 
moment  into  a  chair. 

"  Now  I  know,  so  far  at  least,  the  plan  of  these  blood- 
thirsty tiger-cats,"  muttered  he.  "  They  wish  to  give 
Henry  a  popish  queen;  and  so  Cranmer  must  be  over- 
thrown, that,  when  they  have  deprived  the  queen  of  this 
powerful  prop,  they  may  destroy  her  also  and  tread  her  in 
the  dust.  But  as  God  liveth,  they  shall  not  succeed  in 
this!  God  is  just,  and  He  will  at  last  punish  these  evil- 
doers. And  supposing  there  is  no  God,  then  will  we  try 
a  little  with  the  devil  himself.  No,  they  shall  not  destroy 
the  noble  Cranmer  and  this  beautiful,  high-minded  queen. 
I  forbid  it — I,  John  Heywood,  the  king's  fool.  I  will  see 
everything,  observe  everything,  hear  everything.  They 
shall  find  me  everywhere  on  their  path;  and  when  they 
poison  the  king's  ear  with  their  diabolical  whisperings,  I 
will  heal  it  again  with  my  merry  deviltries.  The  king's 
fool  will  be  the  guardian  angel  of  the  queen." 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 
CHAPTER   XV. 

JOHN   HETWOOD. 

AFTER  so  much  care  and  excitement,  the  king  needed 
an  hour  of  recreation  and  amusement.  Since  the  fair 
young  queen  was  seeking  these  far  away  in  the  chase,  and 
amid  the  beauties  of  Nature,  Henry  must,  no  doubt,  be 
content  to  seek  them  for  himself,  and  in  a  way  different 
from  the  queen's.  His  unwieldiness  and  his  load  of  flesh 
prevented  him  from  pursuing  the  joys  of  life  beyond  his 
own  halls;  so  the  lords  and  ladies  of  his  court  had  to  bring 
them  hither  to  him,  and  station  the  flitting  goddess  of  Joy, 
with  her  wings  fettered,  in  front  of  the  king's  trundle- 
chair. 

The  gout  had  that  day  again  overcome  that  mighty 
king  of  earth;  and  a  heavy,  grotesque  mass  it  was  which 
sat  there  in  the  elbow-chair. 

But  the  courtiers  still  called  him  a  fine-looking  and 
fascinating  man;  and  the  ladies  still  smiled  on  him  and 
said,  by  their  sighs  and  by  their  looks,  that  they  loved  him; 
that  he  was  ever  to  them  the  same  handsome  and  captivat- 
ing man  that  he  was  twenty  years  before,  when  yet  young, 
fine-looking,  and  slim.  How  they  smile  upon  him,  and 
ogle  him!  How  Lady  Jane,  the  maiden  otherwise  so 
haughty  and  so  chaste,  does  wish  to  ensnare  him  with  her 
bright  eyes  as  with  a  net!  How  bewitchingly  does_  the 
Duchess  of  Eichmond,  that  fair  and  voluptuous  woman, 
laugh  at  the  king's  merry  jests  and  double  entendres! 

Poor  king!  whose  corpulency  forbids  him  to  dance  as 
he  once  had  done  with  so  much  pleasure  and  so  much  dex- 
terity! Poor  king!  whose  age  forbids  him  to  sing  as  once 
he  had  done  to  the  delight  both  of  the  court  and  himself! 

But  there  are  yet,  however,  pleasant,  precious,  joyous 
hours,  when  the  man  revives  some  little  in  the  king;  when 
even  youth  once  more  again  awakes  within  him,  and  smilea 
in  a  few  dear,  blessed  pleasures. 


142  HENRY    VIII.    AM)    HIS    COURT. 

The  king  still  has  at  least  eyes  to  perceive  beauty,  and 
a  heart  to  feel  it. 

How  beautiful  Lady  Jane  is,  this  white  lily  with  the 
dark,  star-like  eyes!  How  beautiful  Lady  Richmond,  this 
full-blown  red  rose  with  the  pearl-white  teeth! 

And  they  both  smile  at  him;  and  when  the  king  swears 
he  loves  them,  they  bashfully  cast  down  their  eyes  and 
sigh. 

"  Do  you  sigh,  Jane,  because  you  love  me?  " 

"  Oh,  sire,  you  mock  me.  It  would  be  a  sin  for  me  to 
love  you,  for  Queen  Catharine  is  living." 

"  Yes,  she  is  living!  "  muttered  the  king;  and  his  brow 
darkened;  and  for  a  moment  the  smile  disappeared  from 
his  lips. 

Lady  Jane  had  committed  a  mistake.  She  had  re- 
minded the  king  of  his  wife  when  it  was  yet  too  soon  to  ask 
for  her  death. 

John  Heywood  read  this  in  the  countenance  of  his 
royal  master,  and  resolved  to  take  advantage  of  it.  He 
wished  to  divert  the  attention  of  the  king,  and  to  draw  it 
away  from  the  beautiful,  captivating  women  who  were 
juggling  him  with  their  bewitching  charms. 

"  Yes,  the  queen  lives! "  said  he,  joyfully,  "  and  God 
lie  praised  for  it!  For  how  tedious  and  dull  it  would  be  at 
this  court  had  we  not  our  fair  queen,  who  is  as  wise  as  Me- 
thuselah, and  innocent  and  good  as  a  new-born  babe!  Do 
you  jjot,  Lady  Jane,  say  with  me,  God  be  praised  that 
Queen  Catharine  is  living?  " 

"I  say  so  with  you!"  said  Jane,  with  ill-concealed 
vexation. 

"  And  you,  King  Henry,  do  you  not  say  it  too?  " 

"Of  course,  fool!" 

"  Ah,  why  am  I  not  King  Henry?  "  sighed  John  Hey- 
wood. "  King,  I  envy  you,  not  your  crown,  or  your  royal 
mantle;  not  your  attendants  or  your  money.  I  envy  you 
only  this,  that  you  can  say, '  God  be  praised  that  my  wife  is 
still  alive! '  while  I  never  know  but  one  phrase,  '  (Jod  have 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  J4p, 

pity,  my  wife  is  still  alive ! '  Ah,  it  is  very  seldom,  king, 
that  I  have  heard  a  married  man  speak  otherwise!  You 
are  in  that  too,  as  in  all  things  else,  an  exception,  King 
Henry;  and  your  people  have  never  loved  you  more  warm- 
ly and  purely  than  when  you  say,  *  I  thank  God  that  my 
consort  is  alive ! '  Believe  me,  you  are  perhaps  the  only 
man  at  your  court  who  speaks  after  this  manner,  however 
ready  they  may  be  to  be  your  parrots,  and  re-echo  what 
the  lord  high-priest  says." 

"  The  only  man  that  loves  his  wife  ?  "  said  Lady  Kich- 
mond.  "  Behold  now  the  rude  babbler!  Do  you  not  be- 
lieve, then,  that  we  women  deserve  to  be  loved  ?  " 

"  I  am  convinced  that  you  do  not." 

"  And  for  what  do  you  take  us,  then?  " 

"  For  cats,  which  God,  since  He  had  no  more  cat-skin, 
stuck  into  a  smooth  hide !  " 

"  Take  care,  John,  that  we  do  not  show  you  our  claws!  " 
cried  the  duchess,  laughing. 

"Do  it  anyhow,  my  lady!  I  will  then  make  a  cross, 
and  ye  will  disappear.  For  devils,  you  well  know,  cannot 
endure  the  sight  of  the  holy  cross,  and  ye  are  devils." 

John  Heywood,  who  was  a  remarkably  fine  singer, 
seized  the  mandolin,  which  lay  near  him,  and  began  to 
sing. 

It  was  a  song,  possible  only  in  those  days,  and  at 
Henry's  voluptuous  and  at  the  same  time  canting  court — a 
song  full  of  the  most  wanton  allusions,  of  the  most  cutting 
jests  against  both  monks  and  women;  a  song  which  made 
Henry  laugh,  and  the  ladies  blush;  and  in  which  John 
Heywood  had  poured  forth  in  glowing  dithyrambics  all 
his  secret  indignation  against  Gardiner,  the  sneaking  hypo- 
crite of  a  priest,  and  against  Lady  Jane,  the  queen's  false 
and  treacherous  friend. 

But  the  ladies  laughed  not.  They  darted  flashing 
glances  at  John  Heywood;  and  Lady  Richmond  earnestly 
and  resolutely  demanded  the  punishment  of  the  perfidious 
wretch  who  dared  to  defame  women. 


144  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

The  king  laughed  still  harder.  The  rage  of  the  ladies 
was  so  exceedingly  amusing. 

"  Sire,"  said  the  beautiful  Richmond,  "  he  has  insulted 
not  us,  but  the  whole  sex;  and  in  the  name  of  our  sex,  I 
demand  revenge  for  the  affront." 

"Yes,  revenge!"  cried  Lady  Jane,  hotly. 

••  Revenge! "  repeated  the  rest  of  the  ladies. 

"  See,  now,  what  pious  and  gentle-hearted  doves  ye 
are!  "  cried  John  Heywood. 

The  king  said,  laughingly:  "  Well,  now,  you  shall  have 
your  will — you  shall  chastise  him." 

"  Yes,  yes,  scourge  me  with  rods,  as  they  once  scourged 
the  Messiah,  because  He  told  the  Pharisees  the  truth. 
See  here!  I  am  already  putting  on  the  crown  of  thorns." 

He  took  the  king's  velvet  cap  with  solemn  air,  and  put 
it  on. 

"  Yes,  whip  him,  whip  him!  "  cried  the  king,  laughing, 
as  he  pointed  to  the  gigantic  vases  of  Chinese  porcelain, 
containing  enormous  bunches  of  roses,  on  whose  long  stems 
arose  a  real  forest  of  formidable-looking  thorns. 

"  Pull  the  large  bouquets  to  pieces;  take  the  roses  in 
your  hand,  and  whip  him  with  the  stems!"  said  the  king, 
and  his  eyes  glistened  with  inhuman  delight,  for  the  scene 
promised  to  be  quite  interesting.  The  rose-stems  were 
long  and  hard,  and  the  thorns  on  them  pointed  and  sharp 
as  daggers.  How  nicely  they  would  pierce  the  flesh,  and 
how  he  would  yell  and  screw  his  face,  the  good-natured 
fool! 

"  Yes,  yes,  let  him  take  off  his  coat,  and  we  will  whip 
him!"  cried  the  Duchess  of  Richmond;  and  the  women, 
all  joining  in  the  cry,  rushed  like  furies  upon  John  Hey- 
wood, and  forced  him  to  lay  aside  his  silk  upper  garment. 
Then  they  hurried  to  the  vases,  snatched  out  the  bouquets, 
and  with  busy  hands  picked  out  the  longest  and  stoutest 
stems.  And  loud  were  their  exclamations  of  satisfaction, 
if  the  thorns  were  right  and  sharp,  such  as  would  penetrate 
the  flesh  of  the  offender  right  deeply. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  145 

The  king's  laughter  and  shouts  of  approval  animated 
them  more  and  more,  and  made  them  more  excited  and 
furious.  Their  cheeks  glowed,  their  eyes  glared;  they  re- 
sembled Bacchantes  circling  the  god  of  riotous  joviality 
with  their  shouts  of  "  Evoe!  evoe!  " 

"Not  yet!  do  not  strike  }ret!"  cried  the  king.  "You 
must  first  strengthen  yourselves  for  the  exertion,  and  fire 
your  arms  for  a  powerful  blow!  " 

He  took  the  large  golden  beaker  which  stood  before 
him  and,  tasting  it,  presented  it  to  Lady  Jane. 

"Drink,  my  lady,  drink,  that  your  arm  may  be 
strong! " 

And  they  all  drank,  and  with  animated  smiles  pressed 
their  lips  on  the  spot  which  the  king's  mouth  had  touched. 
And  now  their  eyes  had  a  brighter  flame,  and  their  cheeks 
a  more  fiery  glow. 

A  strange  and  exciting  sight  it  was,  to  see  those  beauti- 
ful women  burning  with  malicious  joy  and  thirst  for  ven- 
geance, who  for  the  moment  had  laid  aside  all  their  elegant 
attitudes,  their  lofty  and  haughty  airs,  to  transform  them- 
selves into  wanton  Bacchantes,  bent  on  chastising  the 
offender,  who  had  so  often  and  so  bitterly  lashed  them  all 
with  his  tongue. 

v  "Ah,  I  would  a  painter  were  here!"  said  the  king. 
"He  should  paint  us  a  picture  of  the  chaste  nymphs  of 
Diana  pursuing  Actseon.  You  are  Actseon,  John!  " 

"  But  they  are  not  the  chaste  nymphs,  king;  no,  far 
from  it,"  cried  Heywood,  laughing,  "and  between  these 
fair  women  and  Diana  I  find  no  resemblance,  but  only  a 
difference." 

"  And  in  what  consists  the  difference,  John?  " 

"  Herein,  sire,  that  Diana  carried  her  horn  at  her  side ; 
but  these  fair  ladies  make  their  husbands  wear  their  horns 
on  the  forehead! " 

A  loud  peal  of  laughter  from  the  gentlemen,  a  yell 
of  rage  from  the  ladies,  was  the  reply  of  this  new  epigram 
of  John  Heywood. 


146  JIK.MiY    VI 11.    AM)    HIS    COU11T. 

They  arranged  themselves  in  two  rows,  and  thue 
formed  a  lane  through  which  John  Heywood  had  to  pass. 

"  Come,  John  Hey  wood,  come  and  receive  your  punish- 
ment ";  and  they  raised  their  thorny  rods  threateningly, 
and  flourished  them  with  angry  gestures  high  above  their 
heads. 

The  scene  was  becoming  to  John  in  all  respects  very 
piquant,  for  these  rods  had  very  sharp  thorns,  and  only  a 
thin  linen  shirt  covered  his  back. 

With  bold  step,  however,  he  approached  the  fatal  pas- 
sage through  which  he  wras  to  pass. 

Already  he  beheld  the  rods  drawn  back;  and  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  the  thorns  were  even  now  piercing  his  back. 

He  halted,  and  turned  with  a  laugh  to  the  king. 
"  Sire,  since  you  have  condemned  me  to  die  by  the  hands 
of  these  nymphs,  I  claim  the  right  of  every  condemned 
criminal — a  last  favor." 

"  The  which  we  grant  you,  John." 

"  I  demand  that  I  may  put  on  these  fair  women  one 
condition — one  condition  on  which  they  may  whip  me. 
Does  your  majesty  grant  me  this?  " 

"  I  grant  it!  " 

"  And  you  solemnly  pledge  me  the  word  of  a  king  that 
this  condition  shall  be  faithfully  kept  and  fulfilled?" 

"  My  solemn,  kingly  word  for  it!  " 

"  Now,  then,"  said  John  Heywood,  as  he  entered  the 
passage,  "  now,  then,  my  ladies,  my  condition  is  this: 
that  one  of  you  who  has  had  the  most  lovers,  and  has  often- 
est  decked  her  husband's  head  with  horns,  let  her  lay  the 
first  stroke  on  my  back."  * 

A  deep  silence  followed.  The  raised  arms  of  the  fair 
women  sank.  The  roses  fell  from  their  hands  and 
dropped  to  the  ground.  Just  before  so  bloodthirsty  and 
revengeful,  they  seemed  now  to  have  become  the  softest 
and  gentlest  of  bcinirs. 

But  could  their  looks  have  killed,  their  fire  certainly 

*  Flogcl's  "Gcschichtc  der  Ilofnarren,"  p.  899. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COUET.  147 

would  have  consumed  poor  John  Ilcywood,  who  now  gazed 
at  them  with  an  insolent  sneer,  and  advanced  into  the  very 
midst  of  their  lines. 

"  Now,  my  ladies,  you  strike  him  not? "  asked  the 
king. 

"  No,  your  majesty,  we  despise  him  too  much  even  to 
wish  to  chastise  him,"  said  the  Duchess  of  Richmond. 

"  Shall  your  enemy  who  has  injured  you  go  thus  un- 
punished? "  asked  the  king.  "  No,  no,  my  ladies;  it  shall 
not  be  said  that  there  is  a  man  in  my  kingdom  whom  I 
have  let  escape  when  so  richly  deserving  punishment.  We 
will,  therefore,  impose  some  other  punishment  on  him. 
He  calls  himself  a  poet,  and  has  often  boasted  that  he 
could  make  his  pen  fly  as  fast  as  his  tongue!  Now,  then, 
John,  show  us  in  this  manner  that  you  are  no  liar!  I  com- 
mand you  to  write,  for  the  great  court  festival  which  takes 
place  in  a  few  days,  a  new  interlude;  and  one  indeed,  hear 
you,  John,  which  is  calculated  to  make  the  greatest  grow- 
ler merry,  and  over  which  these  ladies  will  be  forced  to 
laugh  so  heartily,  that  they  will  forget  all  their  ire !  " 

"  Oh,"  said  John  dolefully,  "  what  an  equivocal  and 
lewd  poem  it  must  be  to  please  these  ladies  and  make  them 
laugh!  My  king,  we  must,  then,  to  please  these  dear 
ladies,  forget  a  little  our  chastity,  modesty,  and  maiden 
bashfulness,  and  speak  in  the  spirit  of  the  ladies — that  is 
to  say,  as  lasciviously  as  possible." 

"  You  are  a  wretch! "  said  Lady  Jane;  "  a  vulgar  hypo- 
critical fool." 

"  Earl  Douglas,  your  daughter  is  speaking  to  you,"  said 
John  Heywood,  calmly.  "  She  flatters  you  much,  your 
tender  daughter." 

"  Now  then,  John,  you  have  heard  my  orders,  and  will 
you  obey  them?  In  four  days  will  this  festival  begin;  I 
give  you  two  days  more.  In  six  days,  then,  you  have  to 
write  a  new  interlude.  And  if  he  fails  to  do  it,  my  ladies, 
you  shall  whip  him  until  you  bring  the  blood;  and  that 
without  any  condition." 


148  HEMIY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

Just  then  was  heard  without  a  flourish  of  trumpets 
and  the  clatter  of  horse-hoofs.  ^. 

"  The  queen  has  returned,"  said  John  Hey  wood,  with 
a  countenance  beaming  with  joy,  as  he  fixed  his  smil- 
ing gaze  full  of  mischievous  satisfaction  on  Lady  Jane. 
"  Nothing  further  now  remains  for  you  to  do,  but  dutifully 
to  meet  your  mistress  upon  the  great  staircase,  for,  as  you 
so  wisely  said  before,  the  queen  still  lives." 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer,  John  Heywood  ran  out 
and  rushed  through  the  anteroom  and  down  the  steps  to 
meet  the  queen.  Lady  Jane  watched  him  with  a  dark, 
angry  look;  and  as  she  turned  slowly  to  the  door  to  go  and 
meet  the  queen,  she  muttered  low  between  her  closely- 
pressed  lips:  "  The  fool  must  die,  for  he  is  the  queen's 
friend!" 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE  CONFIDANT. 

THE  queen  was  just  ascending  the  steps  of  the  great 
public  staircase,  and  she  greeted  John  Heywood  with  a 
friendly  smile. 

"  My  lady,"  paid  he  aloud,  "  I  have  a  few  words  in 
private  to  say  to  you,  in  the  name  of  his  majesty." 

"  Words  in  private! "  repeated  Catharine,  as  she 
stopped  upon  the  terrace  of  the  palace.  "  Well,  then,  fall 
back,  my  lords  and  ladies;  \ve  wish  to  receive  his  majesty's 
mysterious  message." 

The  royal  train  silently  and  respectfully  withdrew  into 
the  large  anteroom  of  the  palace,  while  the  queen  re- 
mained alone  with  John  Heywood  on  the  terrace. 

"  Now,  speak,  John." 

"  Queen,  heed  well  my  words,  and  grave  them  deep  on 
your  memory!  A  conspiracy  is  forged  against  you,  and  in 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  149 

a  few  days,  at  the  great  festival,  it  will  be  ripe  for  execu- 
tion. Guard  well,  therefore,  every  word  you  utter,  ay, 
even  your  very  thoughts.  Beware  of  every  dangerous 
step,  for  you  may  be  certain  that  a  listener  stands  behind 
you!  And  if  you  need  a  confidant,  confide  in  no  one  but 
me!  I  tell  you,  a  great  danger  lies  before  you,  and  only 
•by  prudence  and  presence  of  mind  will  you  be  able  to 
avoid  it." 

This  time  the  queen  did  not  laugh  at  her  friend's  warn- 
ing voice.  She  was  serious;  she  even  trembled. 

She  had  lost  her  proud  sense  of  security  and  her  se- 
rene confidence — she  was  no  longer  guiltless — she  had  a 
dangerous  secret  -to  keep,  consequently  she  felt  a  dread  of 
discovery;  and  she  trembled  not  merely  for  herself,  but 
also  for  him  whom  she  loved. 

"And  in  what  consists  this  plot?"  asked  she,  with 
agitation. 

"  I  do  not  yet  understand  it;  I  only  know  that  it  exists. 
But  I  will  search  it  out,  and  if  your  enemies  lurk  about 
you  with  watchful  eyes,  well,  then,  I  will  have  spying  eyes 
to  observe  them." 

"  And  is  it  I  alone  that  they  threaten?  " 

"  No,  queen,  your  friend  also." 

Catharine  trembled.     "  What  friend,  John?  " 

"  Archbishop  Cranmer." 

"  Ah,  the  archbishop! "  replied  she,  drawing  a  deep 
breath. 

"  And  is  he  all,  John?  Does  their  enmity  pursue  only 
me  and  him?" 

"  Only  you  two!  "  said  John  Hey  wood,  sadly,  for  he  had 
fully  understood  the  queen's  sigh  of  relief,  and  he  knew 
that  she  had  trembled  for  another.  "  But  remember, 
queen,  that  Cranmer's  destruction  would  be  likewise  your 
own;  and  that  as  you  protect  the  archbishop,  he  also  will 
protect  you  with  the  king — you,  queen,  and  your  friends" 

Catharine  gave  a  slight  start,  and  the  crimson  on  her 
cheek  grew  deeper. 


150  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COUKT. 

"  I  shall  always  be  mindful  of  that,  and  ever  be  a  true 
and  real  friend  to  him  and  to  you;  for  you  two  are  my 
only  friends:  is  it  not  so?  " 

"No,  your  majesty,  I  spoke  to  you  of  yet  a  third,  of 
Thomas  Seymour." 

"Oh,  he!"  cried  she  with  a  sweet  smile.  Then  she 
said  suddenly,  and  in  a  low  quick  voice:  "  You  say  I  must 
trust  no  one  here  but  you.  Now,  then,  I  will  give  you  a 
proof  of  my  confidence.  Await  me  in  the  green  summer- 
house  at  twelve  o'clock  to-night.  You  must  be  my  at- 
tendant on  a  dangerous  excursion.  Have  you  courage, 
John?  " 

"  Courage  to  lay  down  my  life  for  you,  queen! " 

"  Come,  then,  but  bring  your  weapon  with  you." 

"At  your  command!  and  is  that  your  only  order  for 
to-day?"' 

"  That  is  all,  John!  only,"  added  she,  with  hesitation 
and  a  slight  blush,  "  only,  if  you  perchance  meet  Earl  Sud- 
ley,  you  may  say  to  him  that  I  charged  you  to  greet  him  in 
my  name." 

"  Oh!  "  sighed  John  Hey  wood,  sadly. 

"  He  has  to-day  saved  my  life,  John,"  said  she,  as  if 
excusing  herself.  "  It  becomes  me  well,  then,  to  be  grate- 
ful to  him." 

And  giving  him  a  friendly  nod,  she  stepped  into  the 
porch  of  the  castle. 

"  Now  let  anybody  say  again,  that  chance  is  not  the 
most  mischievous  and  spiteful  of  all  devils! "  muttered 
John  Heywood.  "  This  devil,  chance,  throws  in  the 
queen's  way  the  very  person  she  ought  most  to  avoid;  and 
she  must  be,  as  in  duty  bound,  very  grateful  to  a  lover. 
Oh,  oh,  so  he  has  saved  her  life?  But  who  knows  whether 
he  may  not  be  one  day  the  cause  of  her  losing  it!  " 

He  dropped  his  head  gloomily  upon  his  breast,  when 
suddenly  he  heard  behind  him  a  low  voice  calling  his 
name:  and  as  he  turned,  he  saw  the  young  Princess  Eliza- 
beth hastening  toward  him  with  a  hurried  step. 


HENRY   VIII.   AND  HIS  COURT.  15} 

She  was  at  that  moment  very  beautiful.  Her  eyes 
gleamed  with  the  fire  of  passion;  her  cheeks  glowed;  and 
about  her  crimson  lips  there  played  a  gentle,  happy  smile. 
She  wore,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  time,  a  close- 
fitting  high-necked  dress,  which  showed  off  to  perfection 
the  delicate  lines  of  her  slender  and  youthful  form,  while 
the  wide  standing  collar  concealed  the  somewhat  too  great 
length  of  her  neck,  and  made  her  ruddy,  as  yet  almost 
childish  face  stand  out  as  it  were  from  a  pedestal.  On 
either  side  of  her  high,  thoughtful  brow,  fell,  in  luxurious 
profusion,  light  flaxen  curls;  her  head  was  covered  with 
a  black  velvet  cap,  from  which  a  white  feather  drooped  to 
her  shoulders. 

She  was  altogether  a  charming  and  lovely  apparition, 
full  of  nobleness  and  grace,  full  of  fire  and  energy;  and 
yet,  in  spite  of  her  youthfulness,  not  wanting  in  a  certain 
grandeur  and  dignity.  Elizabeth,  though  still  almost  a 
child,  and  frequently  bowed  and  humbled  by  misfortune, 
yet  ever  remained  her  father's  own  daughter.  And  though 
Henry  had  declared  her  a  bastard  and  excluded  her  from 
the  succession  to  the  throne,  yet  she  bore  the  stamp  of  her 
royal  blood  in  her  high,  haughty  brow;  in  her  keen,  flash- 
ing eye. 

As  she  now  stood  before  John  Heywood,  she  was  not, 
however,  the  haughty,  imperious  princess,  but  merely  the 
shy,  blushing  maiden,  who  feared  to  trust  her  first  girlish 
secret  to  another's  ear,  and  ventured  only  with  trembling 
hand  to  draw  aside  the  veil  which  concealed  her  heart. 

"John  Heywood,"  said  she,  "you  have  often  told  me 
that  you  loved  me;  and  I  know  that  my  poor  unfortunate 
mother  trusted  you,  and  summoned  you  as  a  witness  of 
her  innocence.  You  could  not  at  that  time  save  the 
mother,  but  will  you  now  serve  Anne  Boleyn's  daughter, 
and  be  her  faithful  friend?  " 

"  I  will,"  said  Heywood,  solemnly,  "  and  as  true  as 
there  is  a  God  above  us,  you  shall  never  find  me  a  traitor." 

"I  believe  you,  John;  I  know  that  I  may  trust  you. 


152  HENRY   VIII.   AND  HIS  COURT. 

Listen  then,  I  will  now  tell  you  my  secret — a  secret  which 
no  one  but  God  knows,  and  the  betrayal  of  which  might 
bring  me  to  tlu>  sraiFold.  Will  you  then  swear  to  me,  that 
you  will  never,  under  any  pretext,  and  from  any  motive 
whatsoever,  betray  to  anybody,  so  much  as  a  single  word 
of  what  I  am  now  about  to  tell  you?  Will  you  swear  to 
me,  never  to  intrust  this,  secret  to  any  one,  even  on  your 
death-bed,  and  not  to  betray  it  even  in  the  confessional?" 

"  Now  as  regards  that,  princess,"  said  John,  with  a 
laugh,  "  you  are  perfectly  safe.  I  never  go  to  confession, 
for  confession  is  a  highly-spiced  dish  of  popery  on  which  I 
long  since  spoilt  my  stomach;  and  as  concerns  my  death- 
bed, one  cannot,  under  the  blessed  and  pious  reign  of 
Henry  the  Eighth,  altogether  know  whether  he  will  be 
really  a  participant  of  any  kind,  or  whether  he  may  not 
make  a  far  more  speedy  and  convenient  trip  into  eternity 
by  the  aid  of  the  hangman." 

"  Oh,  be  serious,  John — do,  I  pray  you!  Let  the  fool's 
mask,  under  which  you  hide  your  sober  and  honest  face, 
not  hide  it  from  me  also.  Be  serious,  John,  and  swear  to 
me  that  you  will  keep  my  secret." 

"  Well,  then,  I  swear,  princess;  I  swear  by  your  moth- 
er's spirit  to  betray  not  a  word  of  what  you  are  going  to 
tell  me." 

"  I  thank  you,  John.  Now  lean  this  way  nearer  to  me, 
lest  the  breeze  may  catch  a  single  word  of  mine  and  bear  it 
farther.  John,  I  love!  " 

She  saw  the  half -surprised,  half -incredulous  smile 
which  played  around  John  Heywood's  lips.  "  Oh,"  con- 
tinued she,  passionately,  "  you  believe  me  not.  YOTI  con- 
sider my  fourteen  years,  and  you  think  the  child  knows 
nothing  yot  of  a  maiden's  feelings.  But  remember,  John, 
that  those  girls  who  live  under  a  warm  sun  are  early  ri- 
pened by  his  glowing  rays,  and  are  alre&dy  wives  and  moth- 
ers when  they  should  still  be  dreaming  children.  Well. 
now,  I  too  am  the  daughter  of  a  torrid  zone,  only  mine  has 
not  been  the  sun  of  prosperity,  and  it  has  been  sorrow  and 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COUBT.  158 

misfortune  which  have  matured  my  heart.  Believe  me, 
John,  I  lore!  A  glowing,  consuming  fire  rages  within  me; 
it  is  at  once  my  delight  and  my  misery,  my  happiness  and 
my  future. 

"  The  king  has  robbed  me  of  a  brilliant  and  glorious 
future;  let  them  not,  then,  grudge  me  a  happy  one,  at 
least.  Since  I  am  never  to  be  a  queen,  I  will  at  feast  be 
a  happy  and  beloved  wife.  If  I  am  condemned  to  live  in 
obscurity  and  lowliness,  at  the  very  least,  I  must  not  be 
prohibited  from  adorning  this  obscure  and  inglorious  exist* 
ence  with  flowers,  which  thrive  not  at  the  foot  of  the 
throne,  and  to  illuminate  it  with  stars  more  sparkling  than 
the  refulgence  of  the  most  radiant  kingly  drown." 

"  Ohj  you  are  mistaken  about  yotir  own  self! "  said 
John  Heywood,  sorrowfully.  "  You  choose  the  one  only 
because  the  other  is  denied.  You  would  love  only  because 
you  cannot  rule;  and  since  your  heart,  which  thirsts  for 
fame  and  honor,  can  find  no  other  satisfaction,  you  would 
quench  its  thirst  with  some  other  draught,  and  would  ad- 
minister love  as  an  opiate  to  lull  to  rest  its  burning  pains. 
Believe  me,  princess,  you  do  not  yet  know  yourself!  You 
were  not  born  to  be  merely  a  loving  wife,  and  your  brow  is 
much  too  high  and  haughty  to  wear  only  a  crown  of 
myrtle.  Therefore,  consider  well  what  you  do,  princess! 
Be"  not  carried  away  by  your  father's  passionate  blood, 
which  boils  in  your  veins  also.  Think  well  before  you  act. 
Your  foot  is  yet  on  one  of  the  steps  to  the  throne.  Draw 
it  not  back  voluntarily.  Maintain  your  position;  then, 
the  next  step  brings  you  again  one  stair  higher  up.  Do 
not  voluntarily  renounce  your  just  claim,  but  abide  in  pa- 
tience the  coming  of  the  day  of  retribution  and  justice. 
Only  do  not  yourself  make  it  impossible,  that  there  may 
then  be  a  full  and  glorious  reparation.  Princess  Elizabeth 
may  yet  one  day  be  queen,  provided  she  has  not  exchanged 
her  name  for  one  less  glorious  and  noble." 

"John  Heywood,"  said  she,  with  a  bewitching  smile, 
"  I  have  told  you  I  love  him." 
11 


154  HI:M;Y  vm.  AND  HIS  COURT. 

"  Well,  love  him  as  much  as  you  please,  but  do  it  in 
silence,  and  tell  him  not  of  it;  but  teach  your  love  resig- 
nation." 

"  John,  he  knows  it  already." 

"  Ah,  poor  princess!  you  are  still  but  a  child,  that 
sticks  its  hands  in  the  fire  with  smiling  bravery  and 
scorche*  them,  because  it  knows  not  that  fire  burns." 

"  Let  it  burn,  John,  burn!  and  let  the  flames  curl  over 
my  head!  Better  be  consumed  in  fire  than  perish  slowly 
and  horribly  with  a  deadly  chill!  I  love  him,  I  tell  you, 
and  he  already  knows  it! " 

"Well,  then,  love  him,  but,  at  least,  do  not  marry 
him!"  cried  John  Hey  wood,  surlily.  , 

"Marry!  "  cried  she,  with  astonishment.  "Marry!  I 
had  never  thought  of  it." 

She  dropped  her  head  upon  her  breast,  and  stood  there, 
silent  and  thoughtful. 

"  I  am  much  afraid  I  made  a  blunder,  then! "  mut- 
tered John  Heywood.  "  I  have  suggested  a  new  thought 
to  her.  Ah,  ah,  King  Henry  has  done  well  in  appointing 
me  his  fool!  Just  when  we  deem  ourselves  the  wisest,  we 
are  the  greatest  fools! " 

"  John,"  said  Elizabeth,  as  she  raised  her  head  again 
and  smiled  to  him  in  a  glow  of  excitement,  "  John,  you  are 
entirely  right;  if  we  love,  we  must  marry." 

"  But  I  said  just  the  contrary,  princess! " 

"  All  right!  "  said  she,  resolutely.  "  All  this  belongs 
to  the  future;  we  will  busy  ourselves  with  the  present.  I 
have  promised  my  lover  an  interview." 

"An  interview!  "  cried  John  Heywood,  in  amazement. 
"  You  will  not  be  so  foolhardy  as  to  keep  your  promise?  " 

"  John  Heywood,"  said  she,  with  an  air  of  approaching 
solemnity,  "  King  Henry's  daughter  will  never  make  a 
promise  without  fulfilling  it.  For  better  or  for  worse,  I 
will  always  keep  my  plighted  word,  even  if  the  greatest 
misery  and  ruin  were  the  result!  " 

John  Heywood  ventured  to  offer  no  further  opposition. 


HENEY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  155 

There  was  at  this  moment  something  peculiarly  lofty, 
proud,  and  truly  royal  in  her  air,  which  impressed  him 
with  awe,  and  before  which  he  bowed. 

"  I  have  granted  him  an  interview  because  he  wished 
it,"  said  Elizabeth;  "  and,  John,  I  will  confess  it  to  you, 
my  own  heart  longed  for  it.  Seek  not,  then,  to  shake 
my  resolution;  it  is  as  firm  as  a  rock.  But  if  you  are 
not  willing  to  stand  by  me,  say  so,  and  I  will  then  look 
about  me  for  another  friend,  who  loves  me  enough  to  im- 
pose silence  on  his  thoughts." 

"  But  who,  perhaps,  will  go  and  betray  you.  No,  no, 
it  has  been  once  resolved  upon,  and  unalterably;  so  no  one 
but  I  must  be  your  confidant.  Tell  me,  then,  what  I  am 
to  do,  and  I  will  obey  you." 

"  You  know,  John,  that  my  apartments  are  situated  in 
yonder  wing,  overlooking  the  garden.  Well,  in  my  dress- 
ing-room, behind  one  of  the  large  wall  pictures,  I  have  dis- 
covered a  door  leading  into  a  lonely,  dark  corridor.  From 
this  corridor  there  is  a  passage  up  into  yonder  tower.  It 
is  unoccupied  and  deserted.  Nobody  ever  thinks  of  enter- 
ing that  part  of  the  castle,  and  the  quiet  of  the  grave 
reigns  throughout  those  apartments,  which  nevertheless 
are  furnished  with  a  magnificence  truly  regal.  There  will 
I  receive  him." 

"  But  how  shall  he  make  his  way  thither?  " 

"Oh,  do  not  be  concerned;  I  have  thought  over  that 
many  days  since;  and  while  I  was  refusing  my  lover  the 
interview  for  which  he  again  and  again  implored  me,  I  was 
quietly  preparing  everything  so  as  to  be  able  one  day  to 
grant  it  to  him.  To-day  this  object  is  attained,  and  to- 
day have  I  fulfilled  his  wish,  voluntarily  and  unasked;  for 
I  saw  he  had  no  more  courage  to  ask  again.  Listen,  then. 
From  the  tower,  a  spiral  staircase  leads  down  to  a  small 
door,  through  which  you  gain  entrance  into  the  garden.  I 
have  a  key  to  this  door.  Here  it  is.  Once  in  possession 
of  this  key,  he  has  nothing  further  to  do  but  remain  be- 
hind in  the  park  this  evening,  instead  of  leaving  the  cas- 


156  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

tie;  and  by  means  of  this  he  will  come  to  me,  for  I  will 
wait  for  him  in  the  tower,  in  the  large  room  directly  op- 
posite the  staircase  landing.  Here,  take  the  key;  give  it 
to  him,  and  repeat  to  him  all  that  I  have  said." 

"  Well,  princess,  there  remains  for  you  now  only  to  ap- 
point the  hour  at  which  you  will  receive  him  there." 

"  The  hour,"  said  she,  as  she  turned  away  her  blushing 
face.  "  You  understand,  John,  that  it  is  not  feasible  to 
receive  him  there  by  day,  because  there  is  by  day  not  a 
single  moment  in  which  I  am  not  watched." 

"  You  will  then  receive  him  by  night! "  said  John 
Hey  wood,  sadly.  "  At  what  hour?  " 

"At  midnight!  And  now  you  know  all;  and  I  beg 
you,  John,  hasten  and  carry  him  my  message;  for,  look, 
the  sun  is  setting,  and  it  will  soon  be  night." 

She  nodded  to  him  with  a  smile,  and  turned  to  go. 

"  Princess,  you  have  forgotten  the  most  important 
point.  You  have  not  yet  told  me  his  name." 

"  My  God!  and  you  do  not  guess  it?  John  Heywood, 
who  has  such  sharp  eyes,  sees  not  that  there  is  at  this 
court  but  a  single  one  that  deserves  to  be  loved  by  a 
daughter  of  the  king!  " 

"  And  the  name  of  this  single  one  is " 

"  Thomas  Seymour,  Earl  of  Sudley! "  whispered  Eliza- 
beth, as  she  turned  away  quickly  and  entered  the  castle. 

"  Oh,  Thomas  Seymour!  "  said  John  Heywood,  utterly 
astounded.  As  if  paralyzed  with  horror,  he  stood  there 
motionless,  staring  up  at  the  sky  and  repeating  over  and 
over,  "  Thomas  Seymour!  Thomas  Seymour!  So  he  is  a 
sorcerer  who  administers  a  love-potion  to  all  the  women% 
and  befools  them  with  his  handsome,  saucy  face.  Thomas 
Seymour!  The  queen  loves  him;  the  princess  loves  him; 
and  then  there  is  this  Duchess  of  Richmond,  who  will  by 
all  means  be  his  wife!  This  much,  however,  is  certain,  he 
is  a  traitor  who  deceives  both,  because  to  both  he  has  made 
the  same  confession  of  love.  And  there  again  is  that  imp, 
chance,  which  compels  me  to  be  the  confidant  of  both 


HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  157 

these  women.  But  I  will  be  well  on  my  guard  against 
executing  both  my  commissions  to  this  sorcerer.  Let  him 
at  any  rate  become  the  husband  of  the  princess;  perhaps 
this  would  be  the  surest  means  of  freeing  the  queen  from 
her  unfortunate  love." 

He  was  silent,  and  still  gazed  up  thoughtfully  at  the 
sky.  "  Yes,"  said  he  then,  quite  cheerfully,  "  thus  shall 
it  be.  I  will  combat  the  one  love  with  the  other.  For 
the  queen  to  love  him,  is  dangerous.  I  will  therefore  so 
conduct  matters  that  she  must  hate  him.  I  will  remain 
her  confidant.  I  will  receive  her  letters  and  her  commis- 
sions, but  I  will  burn  her  letters  and  not  execute  her  com- 
missions. I  am  not  at  liberty  to  tell  her  that  the  faithless 
Thomas  Seymour  is  false  to  her,  for  I  have  solemnly 
pledged  my  word  to  the  princess  never  to  breathe  her  se- 
cret to  any  one;  and  I  will  and  must  keep  my  word. 
Smile  and  love,  then;  dream  on  thy  sweet  dream  of  love, 
queen;  I  wake  for  thee;  I  will  cause  the  dark  cloud  rest- 
ing on  thee  to  pass  by.  It  may,  perhaps,  touch  thine  heart; 
but  thy  noble  and  beautiful  head — that  at  least  it  shall 
not  be  allowed  to  crush;  that-- — " 

"  Now,  then,  what  are  you  staring  up  at  the  sky  for, 
as  if  you  read  there  a  new  epigram  with  which  to  make  the 
king  laugh,  and  the  parsons  rave?"  asked  a  voice  near 
him;  and  a  hand  was  laid  heavily  on  his  shoulder. 

John  Hey  wood  did  not  look  round  at  all;  he  remained 
in  the  same  attitude,  gazing  up  steadily  at  the  sky.  He 
had  very  readily  recognized  the  voice  of  him  who  had 
addressed  him;  he  knew  very  well  that  he  who  stood  near 
him  was  no  other  than  the  bold  sorcerer  whom  he  was  just 
then  cursing  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart;  no  other  than 
Thomas  Seymour,  Earl  of  Sudley. 

"Say,  John,  is  it  really  an  epigram?"  asked  Thomas 
Seymour  again.  "  An  epigram  on  the  hypocritical,  lust- 
ful, and  sanctimonious  priestly  rabble,  that  with  blasphe- 
mous hypocrisy  fawn  about  the  king,  and  are  ever  watch- 
ful how  they  can  set  a  trap  for  one  of  us  honorable  and 


158  HENRY    VITI.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

brave  men?  Is  that  what  Heaven  is  now  revealing  to 
you?" 

"  No,  my  lord,  I  am  only  looking  at  a  hawk  which 
hovers  abont  there  in  the  clouds.  I  saw  him  mount,  earl, 
and  only  think  of  the  wonder — he  had  in  each  talon  a 
dove!  Two  doves  for  one  hawk.  Is  not  that  too  much — 
wholly  contrary  to  law  and  nature?  " 

The  earl  cast  on  him  a  penetrating  and  distrustful  look. 
But  John  Heywood,  remaining  perfectly  calm  and  unem- 
barrassed, continued  looking  at  the  clouds. 

"  How  stupid  such  a  brute  is,  and  how  much  to  his  dis- 
advantage will  his  very  greediness  be!  For  since  he  holds 
a  dove  in  each  claw,  he  will  not  be  able  to  enjoy  either  of 
them;  because  he  has  no  claw  at  liberty  with  which  to  tear 
them.  Soon  as  he  wishes  to  enjoy  the  one,  the  other  will 
escape;  when  he  grabs  after  that,  the  other  flies  away; 
and  so  at  last  he  will  have  nothing  at  all,  because  he  was 
too  rapacious  and  wanted  more  than  he  could  use." 

"  And  you  are  looking  after  this  hawk  in  the  skies? 
But  you  are  perhaps  mistaken,  and  he  whom  you  seek 
is  not  above  there  at  all,  but  here  below,  and  perchance 
quite  close  to  you?  "  asked  Thomas  Seymour  significantly. 

But  John  Heywood  would  not  understand  him. 

"  Nay,"  said  he,  "  he  still  flies,  but  it  will  not  last  long. 
For  verily  I  saw  the  owner  of  the  dovecot  from  which  the 
hawk  has  stolen  the  two  doves.  He  had  a  weapon;  and 
he,  be  ye  sure  of  it — he  will  kill  this  hawk,  because  he  has 
robbed  him  of  his  pet  doves." 

"Enough,  enough!"  cried  the  earl,  impatiently. 
"  You  would  give  me  a  lesson,  but  you  must  know  I  take 
no  counsel  from  a  fool,  even  were  he  the  wisest." 

"  In  that  you  are  right,  my  lord,  for  only  fools  are  so 
foolish  as  to  hearken  to  the  voice  of  wisdom.  Besides, 
each  man  forges  his  own  fortune.  And  now,  wise  sir.  I 
will  give  you  a  key,  which  you  yourself  have  forged,  and 
behind  which  lies  your  fortune.  There,  take  this  key; 
and  if  you  at  midnight  slip  through  the  garden  to  the 


HENKY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  159 

tower  over  yonder,  this  key  will  open  to  you  the  door  of 
the  same,  and  you  can  then  without  hesitation  mount  the 
spiral  staircase  and  open  the  door  which  is  opposite  the 
staircase.  Behind  that  you  will  find  the  fortune  which  you 
have  forged  for  yourself,  sir  blacksmith,  and  which  will  bid 
you  welcome  with  warm  lips  and  soft  arms.  And  so  com- 
mending you  to  God,  I  must  hasten  home  to  think  over 
the  comedy  which  the  king  has  commanded  me  to  write." 

"  But  you  do  not  so  much  as  tell  me  from  whom  this 
message  comes?  "  said  Earl  Sudley,  retaining  him.  "  You 
invite  me  to  a  meeting  and  give  me  a  key,  and  I  know 
not  who  will  await  me  there  in  that  tower." 

"  Oh,  you  do  not  know?  There  is  then  more  than  one 
who  might  await  you  there  ?  Well,  then,  it  is  the  youngest 
and  smallest  of  the  two  doves  who  sends  you  the  key." 

"Princess  Elizabeth?" 

"  You  have  named  her,  not  I!  "  said  John  Heywood,  as 
he  disengaged  himself  from  the  earl's  grasp  and  hurried 
across  the  courtyard  to  betake  himself  to  his  lodgings. 

Thomas  Seymour  watched  him  with  a  scowl,  and  then 
slowly  directed  his  eyes  to  the  key  that  Heywood  had 
given  him. 

"  The  princess  then  awaits  me,"  whispered  he,  soft- 
ly. "Ah,  who  can  read  it  in  the  stars?  who  can  know 
wJiither  the  crown  will  roll  when  it  tumbles  from  King 
Henry's  head?  I  love  Catharine,  but  I  love  ambition  still 
more;  and  if  it  is  demanded,  to  ambition  must  I  sacrifice 
my  heart." 


CHAPTEK   XVII. 

GAMMER   GURTON'S   NEEDLE. 


SLOWLY  and  lost  in  gloomy  thought,  John  Heywood 
walked  toward  his  lodgings.  These  lodgings  were  situated 
in  the  second  or  inner  court  of  the  vast  palace  of  White- 


160  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COUUT. 

hall,  in  that  wing  of  the  castle  which  contained  the  apart- 
ments of  all  the  higher  officers  of  the  royal  household,  and 
so  those  of  the  court-jesters  also;  for  the  king's  fool  was 
at  that  period  a  very  important  and  respectable  personage, 
who  occupied  a  rank  equal  to  that  of  a  gentleman  of  the 
royal  bed-chamber. 

John  Heywood  had  just  crossed  this  second  court- 
yard, when  all  at  once  loud,  wrangling  voices,  and  the 
clear,  peculiar  ring  of  a  box  on  the  ear,  startled  him  out  of 
his  meditations. 

He  stopped  and  listened. 

His  face,  before  so  serious,  had  now  reassumed  its  usual 
merry  and  shrewd  expression;  his  large  eyes  again  glit- 
tered with  humor  and  mischief. 

"  There  again  verily  is  my  sweet,  charming  house- 
keeper, Gammer  Gurton,"  said  John  Heywood,  laughing; 
"  and  she  no  doubt  is  quarrelling  again  with  my  excellent 
servant,  that  poor,  long-legged,  blear-eyed  Hodge.  Ah! 
ha!  Yesterday  I  surprised  her  as  she  applied  a  kiss  to 
him,  at  which  he  made  as  doleful  a  face  as  if  a  bee  had 
stung  him.  To-day  I  hear  how  she  is  boxing  his  ears. 
He  is  perhaps  now  laughing  at  it,  and  thinks  it  is  a  rope- 
leaf  which  cools  his  cheek.  That  Hodge  is  such  a  queer 
bird!  But  we  will  at  once  see  what  there  is  to-day,  and 
what  farce  is  being  performed  now." 

He  crept  softly  up-stairs,  and,  opening  the  door  of  his 
room,  closed  it  again  behind  him  quickly  and  gently. 

Gammer  Gurton,  who  was  in  the  room  adjoining,  had 
heard  nothing,  seen  nothing;  and'had  the  heavens  come 
tumbling  down  at  that  moment,  she  would  have  scarcely 
noticed  it;  for  she  had  eyes  and  sense  only  for  this  long, 
lank  lackey  who  stood  before  her  shaking  with  fear,  and 
staring  at  her  out  of  his  great  bluieh-white  eyes.  Her 
whole  soul  lay  in  her  tongue;  and  her  tongue  ran  as  fast  as 
a  will-wheel,  and  with  the  force  of  thunder. 

How,  then,  could  Gammer  Gurton  well  have  time  and 
ears  to  hear  her  master,  who  had  softly  entered  hie  cham- 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

ber  and  slyly  crept  to  the  door,  only  half  closed,  which 
separated  his  room  from  that  of  the  housekeeper? 

"How!"  screamed  Gammer  Gurton,  "you  silly. raga- 
muffin, you  wish  to  make  me  believe  that  it  was  the  cat 
that  ran  away  with  my  sewing-needle,  as  if  my  sewing- 
needle  were  a  mouse  and  smelt  of  bacon,  you  stupid,  blear- 
eyed  fool! " 

"Ah,  you  call  me  a  fool,"  cried  Hodge,  with  a  laugh, 
which  caused  his  mouth  to  describe  a  graceful  line  across 
his  face  from  ear  to  ear;  "  you  call  me  a  fool,  and  that 
is  a  great  honor  for  me,  for  then  I  am  a  servant  worthy 
of  my  master.  And  as  to  being  blear-eyed,  that  must  be 
caused  by  the  simple  fact  that  I  have  nothing  all  day 
long  before  my  eyes  but  you,  Gammer  Gurton — you,  with 
your  face  like  a  full  moon — you,  sailing  through  the  room 
like  a  frigate,  and  with  your  grappling-ifons,  your  hands, 
smashing  to  pieces  everything  except  your  own  looking- 


"  You  shall  pay  me  for  that,  you  double-faced,  thread- 
bare lout ! "  screamed  Gammer  Gurton,  as  she  rushed  on 
Hodge  with  clenched  fist. 

But  John  Heywood's  cunning  servant  had  anticipated 
this;  he  had  already  slipped  under  the  large  table  which 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  As  the  housekeeper  now 
made  a  plunge  to  drag  him  out  of  his  extemporary  fortress, 
he  gave  her  such  a  hearty  pinch  on  the  leg,  that  she  sprang 
back  with  a  scream,  and  sank,  wholly  overcome  by  the  pain, 
into  the  huge,  leather-covered  elbow-chair  which  was  near 
her  workstand  at  the  window. 

"  You  are  a  monster,  Hodge,"  groaned  she,  exhausted 
— •"  a  heartless,  horrible  monster.  You  have  stolen  my 
sewing-needle — you  only.  For  you  knew  very  well  that  it 
was  my  last  one,  and  that,  if  I  have  not  that,  I  must  go  at 
once  to  the  shopkeeper  to  buy  some  needles.  And  that  is 
just  what  you  want,  you  weathercock,  you.  You  only 
want  me  to  go  out,  that  you  may  have  an  opportunity  to 
play  with  Tib." 


162  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

"  Tib?  Who  is  Tib?  "  asked  Hodge  as  he  stretched 
out  his  long  neck  from  under  the  table,  and  stared  at 
Gammer  Gurton  with  well-assumed  astonishment. 

"  Now  this  otter  wants  me  yet  to  tell  him  who  Tib  is!  " 
screamed  the  exasperated  dame.  "  Well,  then,  I  will  tell 
you.  Tib  is  the  cook  for  the  major-domo  over  there — a 
black-eyed,  false,  coquettish  little  devil,  who  is  bad  and 
mean  enough  to  troll  away  the  lover  of  an  honest  and 
virtuous  woman,  as  I  am;  a  lover  who  is  such  a  pitiful 
little  thing  that  one  would  think  no  one  but  myself  could 
find  him  out  and  see  him;  nor  could  I  have  done  it  had  1 
not  for  forty  years  trained  my  eyes  to  the  search,  and  for 
forty  years  looked  around  for  the  man  who  was  at  length 
to  marry  me,  and  make  me  a  respectable  mistress.  Since 
my  eyes  then  were  at  last  steadily  fixed  on  this  phantom 
of  man,  and  I  found  nothing  there,  I  finally  discovered 
you,  you  cobweb  of  a  man!  " 

"What!  you  call  me  a  cobweb?"  screamed  Hodge,  as 
he  crept  from  under  the  table,  and,  drawing  himself  up  to 
his  full  height,  placed  himself  threateningly  in  front  of 
Gammer  Gurton's  elbow-chair.  "  You  call  me  a  cobweb? 
Now,  I  swear  to  you  that  you  shall  henceforth  never  more 
be  the  spider  that  dwells  in  that  web!  For  you  are  a 
garden-spider,  an  abominable,  dumpy,  old  garden-spider, 
for  whom  a  web,  such  as  Hodge  is,  is  much  too  fine  and 
much  too  elegant.  Be  quiet,  therefore,  old  spider,  and 
spin  your  net  elsewhere!  You  shall  not  live  in  my  net, 
but  Tib — for,  yes,  I  do  know  Tib.  She  is  a  lovely,  charm- 
ing child  of  fourteen,  as  quick  and  nimble  as  a  kid,  with 
lips  red  as  the  coral  which  you  wear  on  your  fat  pudding 
of  a  neck,  with  eyes  which  shine  yet  brighter  than  your 
nose,  and  with  a  figure  so  slender  and  graceful  that  she 
might  have  been  carved  out  of  one  of  your  fingers.  Yes, 
yes,  I  know  Tib.  She  is  an  affectionate,  good  child,  who 
would  never  be  so  hard-hearted  as  to  abuse  the  man  she 
loves,  and  could  not  be  so  mean  and  pitiful,  even  in 
thought,  as  to  wish  to  marry  the  man  she  did  not  love. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  163 

just  because  he  is  a  man.  Yes,  I  know  Tib,  and  now  I 
will  go  straight  to  her  and  ask  her  if  she  will  marry  a  good, 
honest  lad,  who,  to  be  sure,  is  somewhat  lean,  but  who 
doubtless  will  become  fatter  if  he  has  any  other  fare  than 
the  meagre,  abominable  stuff  on  which  Gammer  Gurton 
feeds  him;  a  lad  who,  to  be  sure,  is  blear-eyed,  but  will 
soon  get  over  that  disease  when  he  no  more  sees  Gammer 
Gurton,  who  acts  on  his  eyes  like  a  stinking  onion,  and 
makes  them  always  red  and  running  water.  Good-by,  old 
onion!  I  am  going  to  Tib." 

But  Gammer  Gurton  whirled  up  out  of  her  elbow- 
chair  like  a  top,  and  was  upon  Hodge,  whom  she  held  by 
the  coat-tail,  and  brought  him  to  a  stand. 

"  You  dare  go  to  Tib  again!  You  dare  pass  that  door 
and  you  shall  see  that  the  gentle,  peaceable,  and  patient 
Gammer  Gurton  is  changed  into  a  lioness,  when  any 
one  tries  to  tear  from  her  that  most  sacred  and  dear- 
est of  treasures,  her  husband.  For  you  are  my  hus- 
band, inasmuch  as  I  have  your  word  that  you  will  marry 
me." 

"  But  I  have  not  told  you  when  and  where  I  will  do  it, 
Gammer  Gurton;  and  so  you  can  wait  to  all  eternity,  for 
only  in  heaven  will  I  be  your  husband." 

"That  is  an  abominable,  malicious  lie!"  screamed 
Gammer  Gurton.  "A  good-for-nothing  lie,  say  I!  For 
did  you  not  long  ago  snivel  and  beg  till  I  was  forced  to 
promise  you  to  make  a  will,  and  in  it  declare  Hodge,  my 
beloved  husband,  sole  heir  of  all  my  goods  and  chattels, 
and  bequeath  to  him  everything  I  have  scraped  together 
in  my  virtuous  and  industrious  life?  " 

"  But  you  did  not  make  it — the  will.  You  broke  your 
word;  and,  therefore,  I  will  do  the  same." 

"  Yes,  I  have  made  it,  you  greyhound.  I  have  made 
it;  and  this  very  day  I  was  going  with  you  to  a  justice  of 
the  peace  and  have  it  signed,  and  then  to-morrow  we  would 
have  got  married." 

"You  have  made  the  will,  you  round  world  of  love?" 


I1KNRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

paid  Hodge  tenderly,  as  with  his  long,  withered,  spindling 
arms  he  tried  to  clasp  the  gigantic  waist  of  his  beloved. 
"  You  have  made  the  will  and  declared  me  your  heir? 
Come,  then,  Gammer  Gurton,  come,  let  us  go  to  the  jus- 
tice^ of  the  peace! " 

"  But  do  you  not  see,  then,"  said  Gammer  Gurton,  with 
a  tender,  cat-like  purr,  "  do  you  not  see,  then,  that  you 
rumple  my  frill  when  you  hug  me  so?  Let  me  go,  then, 
nnd  help  me  find  my  needle  quickly,  for  without  the 
needle  we  cannot  go  to  the  justice  of  the  peace." 

"  What,  without  the  needle  not  go  to  the  justice  of  the 
peace?  " 

"  No;  for  only  see  this  hole  which  Gib,  the  cat,  tore 
in  my  prettiest  cap  awhile  ago,  as  I  took  the  cap  out  of  the 
box  and  laid  it  on  the  table.  Indeed  I  cannot  go  to  the 
justice  of  the  peace  with  such  a  hole  in  my  cap!  Search 
then,  Hodge,  search,  so  that  I  can  mend  my  cap,  and  go 
with  you  to  the  justice  of  the  peace! " 

"  Lord  God,  where  in  the  world  can  it  be,  the  unlucky 
needle?  I  must  have  it,  I  must  find  it,  so  that  Gammer 
Gurton  may  take  her  will  to  the  justice  of  the  peace!  " 

And  in  frantic  desperation,  Hodge  searched  all  about 
on  the  floor  for  the  lost  needle,  and  Gammer  Gurton  stuck 
her  large  spectacles  on  her  flaming  red  nose  and  peered 
nbout  on  the  table.  So  eager  was  she  in  the  search,  that 
she  even  let  her  tongue  rest  a  little,  and  deep  silence 
reigned  in  the  room. 

Suddenly  this  silence  was  broken  by  a  voice,  which 
seemed  to  come  from  the  courtyard.  It  was  a  soft,  sweet 
voice  that  cried:  "Hodge,  dear  Hodge,  are  you  thrivy 
Come  to  me  in  the  court,  only  for  a  few  minutes!  I  want 
to  have  a  bit  of  a  laugh  with  you!  " 

It  was  as  though  nn  electric  shock  had  passed  through 
the  room  with  that  voice,  and  struck  at  the  same  time  both 
Gammer  Gurton  and  Hodge. 

Both  startled,  and  discontinuing  the  search,  stood  th«>rr> 
wholly  immovable,  as  if  petrified. 


GAMMER  GURTON'S  QUARREL  WITH  HODGE. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

Hodge  especially,  poor  Hodge,  was  as  if  struck  by  lighi- 
ning.  His  great  bluish-white  eyes  appeared  to  be  coming 
out  of  their  sockets;  his  long  arms  hung  down,  flapping 
and  dangling  about  like  a  flail;  his  knees,  half  bent, 
seemed  already  to  be  giving  way  in  expectation  of  the 
approaching  storm. 

This  storm  did  not  in  fact  make  him  wait  long. 

"  That  is  Tib! "  screamed  Gammer  Gurton,  springing 
like  a  lioness  upon  Hodge  and  seizing  him  by  the  shoulders 
with  both  her  hands.  "  That  is  Tib,  you  thread-like,  piti- 
ful greyhound!  Well,  was  I  not  right,  now,  when  I  called 
you  a  faithless,  good-for-nothing  scamp,  that  spares  not  in^ 
nocence,  and  breaks  the  hearts  of  the  women  as  he  would 
a  cracker,  which  he  swallows  at  his  pleasure?  Was  I  not 
right,  in  saying. that  you  were  only  watching  for  me  to  go 
out  in  order  to  go  and  sport  with  Tib?  " 

"  Hodge,  my  dear,  darling  Hodge,"  cried  the  voice  be- 
neath there,  and  this  time  louder  and  more  tender  than 
before,  "  Hodge,  oh  come,  do  now,  come  with  me  in  the 
court,  as  you  promised  me;  come  and  get  the  kiss  for  which 
you  begged  me  this  morning! " 

"  I  will  be  a  damned  otter,  if  I  begged  her  for  it,  and 
if  I  understand  a  single  word  of  what  she  says! "  said 
Hodge,  wholly  dumfounded  and  quaking  all  over. 

"  Ah,  you  understand  not  a  word  of  what  she  says?  " 
screamed  Gammer  Gurton.  "  Well,  but  7  understand  it. 
I  understand  that  everything  between  us  is  past  and  done 
with,  and  that  I  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  you,  you 
Moloch,  you!  I  understand  that  I  shall  not  go  and  make 
my  will,  to  become  your  wife  and  fret  myself  to  death 
over  this  skeleton  of  a  husband,  that  I  may  leave  you 
to  chuckle  as  my  heir.  No,  no,  it  is  past.  I  am  not 
going  to  the  justice  of  the  peace,  and  I  will  tear  up  my 
will! " 

"  Oh,  she  is  going  to  tear  up  her  will!  "  howled  TTodge; 
"  and  then  I  have  tormented  myself  in  vain;  in  vain  have 
endured  the  horrible  luck  of  being  loved  by  this  old  owl! 


1H6  HEMIY    VIII.    AM)    HIS    COURT. 

Oh,  oh,  she  will  not  make  her  will,  and  Hodge  will  remain 
the  same  miserable  dog  he  always  was!  " 

Gammer  Gurton  laughed  scornfully.  "  Ah,  you  are 
aware  at  last  what  a  pitiable  wretch  you  are,  and  how 
much  a  noble  and  handsome  person,  as  I  am,  lowered  her- 
self when  she  made  up  her  mind  to  pick  up  such  a  weed 
and  make  him  her  husband." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know  it!"  whined  Hodge;  "and  I  pray 
you  pick  me  up  and  take  me,  and  above  all  things  make 
your  will! " 

"  No,  I  will  not  take  you,  and  I  shall  not  make  my  will! 
It  is  all  over  with,  I  tell  you;  and  now  you  can  go  as  soon 
as  you  please  to  Tib,  who  has  called  you  so  lovingly.  But 
first  give  me  back  my  sewing-needle,  you  magpie,  you! 
Give  me  here  my  sewing-needle,  which  you  have  stolen. 
It  is  of  no  use  to  you  now,  for  it  is  not  necessary  for  me 
to  go  out  in  order  that  you  may  go  and  see  Tib.  We  have 
nothing  more  to  do  with  each  other,  and  you  can  go  where 
you  wish.  My  sewing-needle,  say  I — my  needle,  or  I  will 
hang  you  as  a  scarecrow  in  my  pea-patch,  to  frighten  the 
sparrows  out  of  it.  My  sewing-needle,  or — 

She  shook  her  clenched  fist  threateningly  at  Hodge, 
fully  convinced  that  now,  as  always  before,  Hodge  would 
retreat  before  this  menacing  weapon  of  his  jealous  and 
irritable  lady-love,  and  seek  safety  under  the  bed  or  the 
table. 

This  time,  however,  she  was  mistaken.  Hodge,  who 
saw  that  all  was  lost,  felt  that  his  patience  was  at  length 
cxhii  usted;  and  his  timidity  was  now  changed  to  the  mad- 
ness of  despair.  The  Iamb  was  transformed  into  a  ti.irrr, 
and  with  a  tiger's  rage  he  pounced  upon  Gammer  Gurton, 
and,  throwing  aside  her  fist,  he  dealt  her  a  good  sound 
blow  on  the  cheek. 

The  signal  was  given,  and  the  battle  began.  It  was 
waged  by  both  sides  with  equal  animosity  and  equal  vigor; 
only  Hodge's  bony  hand  made  by  far  the  most  telling 
blows  on  Gammer  Gurton's  mass  of  flesh,  and  was  always 


HENftY   VIII.   AND  HIS   COURT. 

certain,  wherever  he  struck,  to  hit  some  spot  of  this  huge 
mass;  while  Gammer  Gurton's  soft  hand  seldom  touched 
that  thin,  threadlike  figure,  which  dexterously  parried 
every  blow. 

"Stop,  you  fools!"  suddenly  shouted  a  stentorian 
voice.  "  See  you  not,  you  gohlins,  that  your  lord  and 
master  is  here  ?  Peace,  peace  then,  you  devils,  and  do  not 
be  hammering  away  at  one  another,  but  love  each  other." 

"  It  is  the  master! "  exclaimed  Gammer  Gurton,  low- 
ering her  fist  in  the  utmost  contrition. 

"  Do  not  turn  me  away,  sir!  "  moaned  Hodge;  "  do  not 
dismiss  me  from  your  service  because  at  last  I  have  for 
once  given  the  old  hag  a  good  bruising.  She  has  deserved 
it  a  long  time,  and  an  angel  himself  must  at  last  lose 
patience  with  her/' 

"  I  turn  you  out  of  my  service !  "  exclaimed  John  Hey- 
wood,  as  he  wiped  his  eyes,  wet  with  laughing.  "  No, 
Hodge,  you  are  a  real  jewel,  a  mine  of  fun  and  merriment; 
and  you  two  have,  without  knowing  it,  furnished  me  with 
the  choicest  materials  for  a  piece  which,  by  the  king's  or- 
der, I  have  to  write  within  six  days.  I  owe  you,  then,  many 
thanks,  and  will  show  my  gratitude  forthwith.  Listen 
well  to  me,  my  amorous  and  tender  pair  of  turtle-doves, 
and  mark  what  I  have  to  say  to  you.  One  cannot  always 
tell  the  wolf  by  his  hide,  for  he  sometimes  put  on  a  sheep's 
skin;  and  so,  too,  a  man  cannot  always  be  recognized  by 
his  voice,  for  he  sometimes  borrows  that  of  his  neighbor. 
Thus,  for  example,  I  know  a  certain  John  Heywood,  who 
can  mimic  exactly  the  voice  of  a  certain  little  miss  named 
Tib,  and  who  knows  how  to  warble  as  she  herself:  '  Hodge, 
my  dear  Hodge ! ' ' 

And  he  repeated  to  them  exactly,  and  with  the  same 
tone  and  expression,  the  words  that  the  voice  had  previous- 
ly cried. 

"  Ah,  it  was  you,  sir?  "  cried  Hodgej  with  a  broad  grin 
— "  that  Tib  in  the  court  there,  that  Tib  about  whom  we 
have  been  pummelling  each  other?  " 


UJ3  HENBY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

"I  w&8  Tib,  Hodge— I  who  was  present  during  the 
Whole  of  your  quarrel,  and  found  it  hugely  comical  to  send 
Tib's  voice  thundering  into  the  midst  of  our  lovers'  quar- 
rel, like  a  cannon-stroke!  Ah,  ha!  Hodge,  that  was  a 
fine  bomb-shell,  was  it  not?  And  as  I  said  'Hodge,  my 
dear  Hodge,'  you  tumbled  about  like  a  kernel  of  corn 
which  a  dung-beetle  blows  with  his  breath.  No,  no,  my 
worthy  and  virtuous  Gammer  Gurton,  it  was  not  Tib  who 
called  the  handsome  Hodge,  and  more  than  that,  I  saw 
Tib,  as  your  contest  began,  go  out  at  the  courtyard  gate." 

"  It  was  not  Tib! "  exclaimed  Gammer  Gurton,  much 
moved,  and  happy  as  love  could  make  her.  "  It  was  not 
Tib,  and  she  was  not  in  the  court  at  all,  and  Hodge  could 
not  then  go  down  to  her,  while  I  went  to  the  shopkeeper's 
to  buy  needles.  Oh,  Hodge,  Hodge,  will  you  forgive  me 
for  this;  will  you  forget  the  hard  words  which  I  spoke  in 
the  fury  of  my  anguish,  and  can  you  love  me  again?  " 

"  I  will  try,"  said  Hodge,  gravely;  "  and  without  doubt 
I  shall  succeed,  provided  you  go  to-day  forthwith  to  the 
justice,  and  make  your  will." 

"I  will  make  my  will,  and  to-morrow  we  will  go  to 
the  priest;  shall  it  not  be  so,  my  angel?  " 

"Yes,  we  go  to  the  priest  to-morrow!"  growled 
Hodge,  as  with  a  frightful  grimace  he  scratched  himself 
behind  the  ears. 

"  And  now  come,  my  angel,  and  give  me  a  kiss  of  recon- 
ciliation! " 

She  spread  her  arms  out,  and  when  Hodge  did  not 
come  to  her,  but  remained  immovable,  and  steadfast  in  his 
position,  she  went  to  Hodge  and  pressed  him  tenderly  to 
her  heart. 

Suddenly  she  uttered  a  shriek,  and  let  go  of  Hodge. 
She  had  felt  a  terrible  pain  in  her  breast.  It  seemed  as 
though  a  small  dagger  had  pierced  her  bosom. 

And  there  it  was,  the  lost  needle,  and  Hodge  then  was 
innocent  and  pure  as  the  early  dawn. 

He  had  not  mischievously  purloined  the  needle,  so  that 


HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

Gammer  Gurton  would  be  compelled  to  leave  her  house  in 
order  to  fetch  some  new  needles  from  the  shopkeeper's;  he 
had  not  intended  to  go  to  Tib,  for  Tib  was  not  in  the 
court,  but  had  gone  out. 

"  Oh  Hodge,  Hodge,  good  Hodge,  you  innocent  dove, 
will  you  forgive  me?  " 

"  Come  to  the  justice  of  the  peace,  Gammer  Gurton, 
and  I  forgive  you!  " 

They  sank  tenderly  into  each  other's  arms,  wholly  for- 
getful of  their  master,  who  still  stood  near  them,  and 
looked  on,  laughing  and  nodding  his  head. 

"  Now,  then,  I  have  found  the  finest  and  most  splendid 
materials  for  my  piece,"  said  John  Heywood,  as  he  left  the 
loving  pair  and  betook  himself  to  his  own  room.  "  Gam- 
mer Gurton  has  saved  me,  and  King  Henry  will  not  have 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  me  whipped  by  those  most  virtu- 
ous and  most  lovely  ladies  of  his  court.  To  work,  then, 
straightway  to  work! " 

He  seated  himself  at  his  writing-desk,  and  seized  pen 
and  paper. 

"  But  how! "  asked  he,  suddenly  pausing.  "  That  is 
certainly  a  rich  subject  for  a  composition;  but  I  can  never 
in  the  world  get  an  interlude  out  of  it!  What  shall  I  do 
with  it?  Abandon  this  subject  altogether,  and  again  jeer 
at  the  monks  and  ridicule  the  nuns?  That  is  antiquated 
and  worn  out!  I  will  write  something  new,  something 
wholly  new,  and  something  which  will  make  the  king  so 
merry,  that  he  will  not  sign  a  death-warrant  for  a  whole 
day.  Yes,  yes,  a  merry  play  shall  it  be,  and  then  I  will 
call  it  boldly  and  fearlessly  a  comedy!  " 

He  seized  his  pen  and  wrote:  "Gammer  Gurfan's 
Needle,  a  right  pithy,  pleasant,  and  merry  comedy." 

And  thus  originated  the  first  English  comedy,  by  John 
Heywood,  fool  to  King  Henry  the  Eighth.* 

*  This  comedy  was  first  printed  in  the  year  1661,  but  it  was  repre- 
sented at  Christ  College  fully  a  hundred  years  previously.     Who  was 
the  author  of  it  is  not  known  with  certainty ;  but  it  is  possible  that 
12 


170  HENRY    VIII.    AM)    IMS    COURT. 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 

LADY   JANE. 

ALL  was  quiet  in  the  palace  of  Whitehall.  Even  the 
servants  on  guard  in  the  vestibule  of  the  king's  bed- 
chamber had  been  a  long  time  slumbering,  for  the  king 
had  been  snoring  for  several  hours;  and  this  majestical 
sound  was,  to  the  dwellers  in  the  palace,  the  joyful  an- 
nouncement that  for  one  fine  night  they  were  exempt 
from  service,  and  might  be  free  men. 

The  queen  also  had  long  since  retired  to  her  apart- 
ments, and  dismissed  her  ladies  at  an  unusually  early  hour. 
She  felt,  she  said,  wearied  by  the  chase,  and  much  needed 
rest.  No  one,  therefore,  was  to  disturb  her,  unless  the 
king  should  order  it. 

But  the  king,  as  we  have  said,  slept,  and  the  queen 
had  no  reason  to  fear  that  her  night's  rest  would  be  dis- 
turbed. 

Deep  silence  reigned  in  the  palace.  The  corridors 
were  empty  and  deserted,  the  apartments  all  silent. 

Suddenly  a  figure  tripped  along  softly  and  cautiously 
through  the  long  feebly  lighted  corridor.  She  was 
wrapped  in  a  black  mantle;  a  veil  concealed  her  face. 

Scarcely  touching  the  floor  with  her  feet,  she  floated 
away,  and  glided  down  a  little  staircase.  Now  she  stops 
and  listens.  There  is  nothing  to  hear;  all  is  noiseless  and 
still. 

Then,  on  again.     Now  she  wings  her  steps.     For  here 
she  is  sure  of  not  being  heard.     It  is  the  unoccupied  wing- 
of  the  castle  of  Whitehall.     Nobody  watches  her  here. 

On,  then,  on,  adown  that  corridor,  descending  those 
stairs.  There  she  stops  before  a  door  leading  into  the 

the  writer  of  it  was  John  Heywood,  the  epigrammatist  and  court- 
jester. — See  Dramaturgic  oder  Theorie  und  Geschichte  der  dramati- 
schen  Kunst,  von  Theodore  Mundt,  vol.  i,  p.  309.  Flogel's  Geschichte 
der  Hofnarreu,  p.  899. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  tf\ 

summer-house.  She  puts  her  ear  to  the  door,  and  listens. 
Then  she  claps  her  hands  three  times. 

The  sound  is  reechoed  from  the  other  side. 

"Oh,  he  is  there,  he  is  there!"  Forgotten  now  are 
her  cares,  forgotten  her  pains  and  tears.  He  is  there. 
She  has  him  again. 

She  throws  open  the  door.  It  is  dark  indeed  in  the 
chamber,  but  she  sees  him,  for  the  eye  of  love  pierces  the 
night;  and  if  she  sees  him  not,  yet  she  feels  his  presence. 

She  rests  on  his  heart;  he  presses  her  closely  to  his 
breast.  Leaning  on  each  other,  they  grope  cautiously 
along  through  the  dark,  desolate  chamber  to  the  divan 
at  the  upper  end,  and  there,  both  locked  in  a  happy  em- 
brace, they  sink  upon  the  cushion. 

"At  last  I  have  you  again!  and  my  arms  again  clasp 
this  divine  form,  and  again  my  lips  press  this  crimson 
mouth!  Oh,  my  beloved,  what  an  eternity  has  this  sepa- 
ration been!  Six  days!  Six  long  nights  of  agony!  Have 
you  not  felt  how  my  soul  cried  out  for  you,  and  was  filled 
with  trepidation;  how  I  stretched  my  arms  out  into  the 
night,  and  let  them  fall  again  disconsolate  and  trembling 
with  anguish,  because  they  clasped  nothing — naught  but 
the  cold,  vacant  night  breeze!  Did  you  not  hear,  my  be- 
loved, how  I  cried  to  you  with  sighs  and  tears,  how  in 
glowing  dithyrambics  I  poured  forth  to  you  my  longing, 
my  love,  my  rapture?  But  you,  cruel  you,  remained  ever 
cold,  ever  smiling.  Your  eyes  were  ever  flashing  in  all  the 
pride  and  grandeur  of  a  Juno.  The  roses  on  your  cheeks 
were  not  one  whit  the  paler.  No,  no,  you  have  not  longed 
for  me;  your  heart  has  not  felt  this  painful,  blissful  an- 
guish. You  are  first  and  above  all  things  the  proud,  cold 
queen,  and  next,  next  the  loving  woman." 

"  How  unjust  and  hard  you  are,  my  Henry! "  whis- 
pered she  softly.  "  I  have  indeed  suffered;  and  perhaps 
my  pains  have  been  more  cruel  and  bitter  than  yours,  for  I 
— I  had  to  let  them  consume  me  within.  You  could  pour 
them  forth,  you  could  stretch  out  your  arms  after  me,  you 


172  HKXKY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

could  utter  lamentations  and  sighs.  You  were  not,  like 
me,  condemned  to  laugh,  and  to  jest,  and  to  listen  with 
apparently  attentive  ear  to  all  those  often  heard  and  con- 
stantly repeated  phrases  of  praise  and  adoration  from  those 
about  me.  You  were  at  least  free  to  suffer.  I  was  not.  It 
is  true  I  smiled,  but  amidst  the  pains  of  death.  It  is  true 
my  cheeks  did  not  blanch,  but  rouge  was  the  veil  with 
which  I  covered  their  paleness;  and  then,  Henry,  in  the 
midst  of  my  pains  and  longings,  I  had,  too,  a  sweet  con- 
solation— your  letters,  your  poems,  which  fell  like  the  dew 
of  heaven  upon  my  sick  soul,  and  restored  it  to  health, 
for  new  torments  and  new  hopes.  Oh,  how  I  love  them — 
those  poems,  in  whose  noble  and  enchanting  language  your 
love  and  our  sufferings  are  reechoed !  How  my  whole  soul 
flew  forth  to  meet  them  when  I  received  them,  and  how 
pressed  I  my  lips  thousands  and  thousands  of  times  on  the 
paper  which  seemed  to  me  redolent  with  your  breath  and 
your  sighs!  How  I  love  that  good,  faithful  Jane,  the  si- 
lent messenger  of  our  love!  When  I  behold  her  entering 
my  chamber,  with  the  unsullied  paper  in  hand,  she  is  to 
me  the  dove  with  the  olive-leaf,  that  brings  me  peace  and 
happiness,  and  I  rush  to  her,  and  press  her  to  my  bosom; 
and  give  her  all  the  kisses  I  would  give  you,  and  feel  how 
poor  and  powerless  I  am,  because  I  cannot  repay  her  all 
the  happiness  that  she  brings  me.  Ah,  Henry,  how  many 
thanks  do  we  owe  to  poor  Jane! " 

"  Why  do  you  call  her  poor,  when  she  can  be  near  you, 
always  behold  you,  always  hear  you?  " 

"  I  call  her  poor,  because  she  is  unhappy.  For  she 
loves,  Henry — she  loves  to  desperation,  to  madness,  and 
she  is  not  loved.  She  is  pining  away  with  grief  and  pain, 
and  wrings  her  hands  in  boundless  woe.  Have  you  not 
noticed  how  pale  she  is,  and  how  her  eyes  become  daily 
more  dim?" 

"  Xo,  I  have  not  seen  it,  for  I  see  naught  but  you,  and 
Lady  Jane  is  to  me  a  lifeless  image,  as  are  all  other  women. 
But  what!  You  tremble;  and  your  whole  frame  writhes 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  173 

in  my  arms,  as  if  in  a  convulsion!  And  what  is  that? 
Are  you  weeping?  " 

"  Oh,  I  weep,  because  I  am  so  happy.  I  weep,  because 
I  was  thinking  how  fearful  the  suffering  must  be,  to  give 
the  whole  heart  away,  and  receive  nothing  in  return, 
naught  but  death!  Poor  Jane!  " 

"  What  is  she  to  us?  We,  we  love  each  other.  Come, 
dear  one,  let  me  kiss  the  tears  from  your  eyes;  let  me 
drink  this  nectar,  that  it  may  inspire  me,  and  transfigure 
me  to  a  god!  Weep  no  more — no,  weep  not;  or,  if  you  will 
do  so,  be  it  only  in  the  excess  of  rapture,  and  because  word 
and  heart  are  too  poor  to  hold  all  this  bliss!  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  let  us  shout  for  joy;  let  us  be  lost  in  blessed- 
ness! "  exclaimed  she  passionately,  as  with  frantic  violence 
she  threw  herself  on  his  bosom. 

Both  were  now  silent,  mutely  resting  on  each  other's 
heart. 

Oh,  how  sweet  this  silence;  how  entrancing  this 
noiseless,  sacred  night!  How  the  trees  without  there 
murmur  and  rustle,  as  if  they  were  singing  a  heavenly  lull- 
aby to  the  lovers!  how  inquisitively  the  pale  crescent 
moon  peeps  through  the  window,  as  though  she  were  seek- 
ing the  twain  whose  blessed  confidante  she  is! 

But  happiness  is  so  swift-winged,  and  time  flies  so  fast, 
when  love  is  their  companion! 

Even  now  they  must  part  again— now  they  muet  again 
say  farewell. 

"  Not  yet,  beloved,  stay  yet!  See,  the  night  is  still 
dark;  and  hark,  the  castle  clock  is  just  striking  two.  No, 
go  not  yet." 

"  I  must,  Henry,  I  must:  the  hours  are  past  in  which 
I  can  be  happy." 

"Oh,  you  cold,  proud  soul!  Does  the  head  already 
long  again  for  the  crown;  and  can  you  wait  no  longer  for 
the  purple  to  again  cover  your  shoulders?  Come,  let  me 
kiss  your  shoulder;  and  think  now,  dear,  that  my  crimson 
lips  are  also  a  purple  robe/' 


174:  HENRY   VIII.    AM)    HIS   COURT. 

"  And  a  purple  robe  for  which  I  would  gladly  give  my 
crown  and  my  life! "  cried  she,  with  the  utmost  enthu- 
H.i-m.  as  she  folded  him  in  her  arms. 

"  Do  you  love  me,  then?     Do  you  really  love  me?  " 

"  Yes,  I  love  you!  " 

"  Can  you  swear  to  me  that  you  love  no  one  except 
me?" 

"  I  can  swear  it,  as  true  as  there  is  a  God  above  us,  who 
hears  my  oath." 

"  Bless  you  for  it,  you  dear,  you  only  one — oh,  how 
shall  I  call  you? — you  whose  name  I  may  not  utter!  Oh, 
do  you  know  that  it  is  cruel  never  to  name  the  name  of  the 
loved  one?  Withdraw  that  prohibition;  grudge  me  not 
the  painfully  sweet  pleasure  of  being  able  at  least  to  call 
you  by  your  name!  " 

"  No,"  said  she,  with  a  shudder;  "  for  know  you  not 
that  the  sleep-walkers  awakq,  out  of  their  dreams  when 
they  are  called  by  name?  I  am  a  somnambulist,  who,  with 
smiling  courage,  moves  along  a  dizzy  height;  call  me  by 
name,  and  I  shall  awake,  and,  shuddering,  plunge  into  the 
abyss  beneath.  Ah,  Henry,  I  hate  my  name,  for  it  is  pro- 
nounced by  other  lips  than  yours.  For  you  I  will  not  be 
named  as  other  men  call  me.  Baptize  me,  my  Henry;  give 
me  another  name — a  name  which  is  our  secret,  and  which 
no  one  knows  besides  us." 

"  I  name  you  Geraldine;  and  as  Geraldine  I  will  praise 
and  laud  you  before  all  the  world.  I  will,  in  spite  of  all 
these  spies  and  listeners,  repeat  again  and  again  that  I 
love  you,  and  no  one,  not  the  king  himself,  shall  be  able 
to  forbid  me." 

"  Hush!  "  said  she,  with  a  shudder,  "  speak  not  of  him! 
Oh,  I  conjure  you,  my  Henry,  be  cautious;  think  that  you 
have  swnrn  to  me  ever  to  think  of  the  danger  that  threat- 
ens us,  and  will,  without  doubt,  dash  us  in  pieces  if  you, 
by  only  a  sound,  a  look,  or  a  smile,  betray  the  sweet  secret 
that  unites  us  two.  Are  you  still  aware  what  you  have 
M\<>rn  to  me?" 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  175 

"  I  am  aware  of  it!  But  it  is  an  unnatural  Draconian 
law.  What!  even  when  I  am  alone  with  you,  shall  I  never 
be  allowed  to  address  you  otherwise  than  with  that  rever- 
ence and  restrain  which  is  due  the  queen?  Even  when  no 
one  can  hear  us,  may  I,  by  no  syllable,  by  none,  not  the 
slightest  intimation,  remind  you  of  our  love?" 

"  No,  no,  do  it  not;  for  this  castle  has  everywhere  eyes 
and  ears,  and  everywhere  are  spies  and  listeners  behind 
the  tapestry;  behind  the  curtains;  everywhere  are  they 
concealed  and  lurking,  watching  every  feature,  every  smile, 
every  word,  whether  it  may  not  afford  ground  for  sus- 
picion. No,  no,  Henry;  swear  to  me  by  our  love  that  you 
will  never,  unless  here  in  this  room,  address  me  other- 
wise than  your  queen.  Swear  to  me  that,  beyond  these 
walls,  you  will  be  to  me  only  the  respectful  servant  of  your 
queen,  and  at  the  same  time  the  proud  earl  and  lord,  of 
whom  it  is  said  that  never  has  a  woman  been  able  to  touch 
his  heart.  Swear  to  me  that  you  will  not,  by  a  look,  by  a 
smile,  by  even  the  gentlest  pressure  of  the  hand,  betray 
what  beyond  this  room  is  a  crime  for  both  of  us.  Let  this 
room  be  the  temple  of  our  love;  but  when  we  once  pass 
its  threshold,  we  will  not  profane  the  sweet  mysteries  of 
our  happiness,  by  allowing  unholy  eyes  to  behold  even  a 
single  ray  of  it.  Shall  it  be  so,  my  Henry?  " 

"Yes,  it  shall  be  so!"  said  he,  with  a  troubled  voice; 
"  although  I  must  confess  that  this  dreadful  illusion  often 
tortures  me  almost  to  death.  Oh,  Geraldine,  when  I  meet 
you  elsewhere,  when  I  observe  the  eye  so  icy  and  immoVa- 
ble,  with  which  you  meet  my  look,  I  feel  as  it  were  my 
heart  convulsed;  and  I  say  to  myself:  '  This  is  not  she, 
whom  I  love — not  the  tender,  passionate  woman,  whom  in 
the  darkness  of  the  night  I  sometimes  lock  in  my  arms. 
This  is  Catharine,  the  queen,  but  not  my  loved  one.  A 
woman  cannot  so  disguise  herself;  art  goes  not  so  far  as 
to  falsify  the  entire  nature,  the  innermost  being  and  life 
of  a  person.'  Oh,  there  have  been  hours,  awful,  horrible 
hours,  when  it  seemed  to  me  as  though  all  this  were  a 


176  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    <.«>l  KT. 

delusion,  a  mystification — as.  though  in  some  way  an  evil 
demon  assumed  the  queen's  form  by  night  to  mock  me, 
poor  frenzied  visionary,  with  a  happiness  that  has  no  exist- 
ence, but  lives  only  in  my  imagination.  When  such 
thoughts  come  to  me,  I  feel  a  frenzied  fury,  a  crushing  de- 
spair, and  I  could,  regardless  of  my  oath  and  even  the 
danger  that  threatens  you,  rush  to  you,  and,  before  all  the 
courtly  rabble  and  the  king  himself,  ask:  '  Are  you  really 
what  you  seem?  Are  you,  Catharine  Parr,  King  Henry's 
wife — nothing  more,  nothing  else  than  that?  Or  are  you, 
my  beloved,  the  woman  who  is  mine  in  her  every  thought, 
her  every  breath;  who  has  vowed  to  me  eternal  love  and 
unchanging  truth;  and  whom  I,  in  spite  of  the  whole 
world,  and  the  king,  press  to  my  heart  as  my  own? ' 3 

"  Unhappy  man,  if  you  ever  venture  that,  you  doom  us 
both  to  death! " 

"Be  it  so,  then!  In  death  you  will  at  least  be  mine, 
and  no  one  would  longer  dare  separate  us,  and  your  eyes 
would  no  longer  look  so  cold  and  strangely  upon  me,  as 
they  often  now  do.  Oh,  I  conjure  you,  gaze  not  upon  me 
at  all,  if  you  cannot  do  it  otherwise  than  with  those  cold, 
proud  looks,  that  benumb  my  heart.  Turn  away  your 
eyes,  and  speak  to  me  with  averted  face." 

"  Then,  men  will  say  that  I  hate  you,  Henry." 

"  It  is  more  agreeable  to  me  for  them  to  say  you  abhor 
me  than  for  them  to  see  that  I  am  wholly  indifferent  to 
you;  that  I  am  to  you  nothing  more  than  the  Earl  of  Sur- 
rey, your  lord  chamberlain." 

"  No,  no,  Henry.  They  shall  see  that  you  are  more  to 
me  than  merely  that.  Before  the  whole  assembled  court 
I  will  give  you  a  token  of  my  love.  Will  you  then  believe, 
you  dear,  foolish  enthusiast,  that  I  love  you,  and  that  it 
is  no  demon  that  rests  here  in  your  arms  and  swears  that 
•he  loves  nothing  but  you?  Say,  will  you  then  believe 
me?" 

"  I  will  believe  you!  But  no,  there  is  no  need  of  any 
sign,  or  any  assurance.  Nay,  I  know  it;  I  feel  indeed  the 


HENKY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  177 

sweet  reality  that  cuddles  to  my  side,  warm,  and  filling 
me  with  happiness;  and  it  is  only  the  excess  of  happiness 
that  makes  me  incredulous." 

"  I  will  convince  you  thoroughly;  and  you  shall  doubt 
no  more,  not  even  in  the  intoxication  of  happiness.  Lis- 
ten, then.  The  king,  as  you  know,  is  about  to  hold  a  great 
tournament  and  festival  of  the  poets,  and  it  will  take  place 
in  a  few  days.  Now,  then,  at  this  fete  I  will  publicly,  in 
the  presence  of  the  king  and  his  court,  give  you  a  rosette 
that  I  wear  on  my  shoulder,  and  in  the  silver  fringe  of 
which  you  will  find  a  note  from  me.  Will  that  satisfy  you. 
my  Henry?" 

"  And  do  you  still  question  it,  my  dear?  Do  you  ques- 
tion it,  when  you  will  make  me  proud  and  happy  above 
all  others  of  your  court?  " 

He  pressed  her  closely  to  his  heart  and  kissed  her.  But 
suddenly  she  writhed  in  his  arms,  and  started  up  in  wild 
alarm. 

"Day  is  breaking,  day  is  breaking!  See  there!  a  red 
streak  is  spreading  over  the  clouds.  The  sun  is  coming; 
day  is  coming,  and  already  begins  to  dawn." 

He  endeavored  to  detain  her  still;  but  she  tore  herself 
passionately  away,  and  again  enveloped  her  head  in  her 
veil. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  day  is  breaking  and  it  is  growing 
light!  Let  me  then,  for  a  moment  at  least,  see  your  face. 
My  soul  thirsts  for  it  as  the  parched  earth  for  the  dew. 
Come,  it  is  light  here  at  the  window.  Let  me  see  your 
eyes." 

She  tore  herself  vehemently  away.  "No,  no,  you 
must  begone!  Hark,  it  is  already  three  o'clock.  Soon 
everything  will  be  astir  in  the  castle.  Did  it  not  seem  as 
if  some  person  passed  by  the  door  here?  Haste,  haste,  if 
you  do  not  wish  me  to  die  of  dread!  "  She  threw  his  cloak 
over  him;  she  drew  his  hat  over  his  brow;  then  once  more 
she  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  pressed  on  his  lips 
a  burning  kiss. 


178  IIKNRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

"Farewell,  my  beloved!  farewell,  Henry  Howard! 
When  we  see  each  other  again  to-day,  you  are  the  Earl 
of  Surrey,  and  I,  the  queen — not  your  loved  one— not  the 
woman  who  loves  you!  Happiness  is  past,  and  suffering 
awakes  anew.  Farewell." 

She  herself  opened  the  glass  door,  and  pushed  her 
lover  out. 

"  Farewell,  Geraldine;  good-night,  my  dear!  Day 
comes,  and  I  again  greet  you  as  my  queen,  and  I  shall  have 
to  endure  again  the  torture  of  your  cold  looks  and  your 
haughty  smiles." 


CHAPTER   XIX. 
LOYOLA'S  GENERAL. 

SHE  rushed  to  the  window  and  gazed  after  him  till  he 
had  disappeared,  then  she  uttered  a  deep  cry  of  anguish, 
and,  wholly  overcome  by  her  agony,  she  sank  down  on  her 
knees  weeping  and  wailing,  wringing  her  hands,  and  rais- 
ing them  to  God. 

But  just  before  so  happy  and  joyful,  she  was  now  full 
of  woe  and  anguish;  and  bitter  sighs  of  complaint  came 
trembling  from  her  lips. 

"  Oh,  oh,"  moaned  she,  with  sobs;  "  what  terrible 
agonies  are  these,  and  how  full  of  despair  the  anguish  that 
lacerates  my  breast!  I  have  lain  in  his  arms;  I  have  re- 
ceived his  vows  of  love  and  accepted  his  kisses;  and  these 
vows  are  not  mine,  and  these  kisses  he  gave  not  to  me. 
He  kissed  me,  and  he  loves  in  me  only  her  whom  I  hate. 
He  lays  his  hands  in  mine  and  utters  vows  of  love  which  he 
dedicates  to  her.  He  thinks  and  feels  for  her  only — her 
alone.  What  a  terrible  torture  this  is!  To  be  loved 
under  her  name;  under  her  name  to  receive  the  'Vows  of 
love  that  yet  belong  to  me  only — lo  me  alone!  For  lie 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  179 

loves  me,  me  exclusively.  They  are  my  lips  that  he  kisses, 
my  form  that  he  embraces;  to  me  are  addressed  his  words 
and  his  letters;  and  it  is  I  that  reply  to  them.  He  loves 
me,  me  only,  and  yet  he  puts  no  faith  in  me.  I  am  noth- 
ing to  him,  naught  but  a  lifeless  image,  like  other  women. 
This  he  has  told  me;  and  I  did  not  become  frenzied;  and 
I  had  the  cruel  energy  to  pass  off  the  tears  wrung  from 
me  by  despair,  for  tears  of  rapture.  Oh,  detestable,  hor- 
rible mockery  of  fate — to  be  what  I  am  not,  and  not  to  be 
what  I  am! " 

And  with  a  shrill  cry  of  agony  she  tore  her  hair,  and 
with  her  fist  smote  upon  her  breast,  and  wept  and  moaned 
aloud. 

She  heard  naught;  she  saw  naught;  she  felt  naught 
but  her  inexpressible  and  despairing  anguish. 

She  did  not  once  tremble  for  herself;  she  thought  not 
at  all  of  this — that  she  would  be  lost  if  she  were  found  in 
this  place. 

And  yet  at  the  other  side  of  the  room  a  door  had 
opened,  softly  and  noiselessly,  and  a  man  had  entered. 

He  shut  the  door  behind  him  and  walked  up  to  Lady 
Jane,  who  still  lay  on  the  floor.  He  stood  behind  her  while 
she  uttered  her  despairing  lamentation.  He  heard  every 
word  of  her  quivering  lips;  her  whole  heart  painfully  con- 
vulsed and  torn  with  grief  lay  unveiled  before  him;  and 
she  knew  it  not. 

Now  he  bent  over  her;  and  with  his  hand  he  lightly 
touched  her  shoulder.  At  this  touch  she  gave  a  convul- 
sive start,  as  if  hit  by  the  stroke  of  a  sword,  and  her  sob- 
bing was  immediately  silenced. 

An  awful  pause  ensued.  The  woman  lay  on  the  floor 
motionless,  breathless,  and  near  her,  tall  and  cold  as  a  fig- 
ure of  bronze,  stood  the  man. 

"  Lady  Jane  Douglas,"  said  he  then,  sternly  and  sol- 
emnly, "  stand  up.  It  becomes  not  your  father's  daughter 
to  be  upon  her  knees,  when  it  is  not  God  to  whom  she 
kneels.  But  you  are  not  kneeling  to  God,  but  to  an  idol, 


180  IIEXRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

which  you  yourself  have  made,  an£  to  which  you  have 
erected  a  temple  in  your  heart.  This  idol  is  called  '  Your 
own  personal  misfortune.'  But  it  is  written,  '  Thou  Bhalt 
have  no  other  Gods  but  me/  Therefore  I  say  to  you  once 
more,  Lady  Jane  Douglas,  rise  from  your  knees,  for  it  is 
not  your  God  to  whom  you  kneel." 

And  as  though  these  words  exercised  a  magnetic  power 
over  her,  she  raised  herself  up  slowly  from  the  floor,  and 
now  stood  there  hefore  her  father,  stern  and  cold  as  a 
statue  of  marble. 

"  Cast  from  you  the  sorrows  of  this  world,  which  bur- 
den you,  and  hinder  you  in  the  sacred  work  which  God  has 
imposed  on  you! "  continued  Earl  Douglas  in  his  metallic, 
solemn  voice.  "  It  is  written,  '  Come  unto  Me,  all  ye  that 
labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest,'  saith 
our  God.  But  you,  Jane,  you  are  to  throw  down  your 
trouble  at  the  foot  of  the  throne;  and  your  burden  will 
become  a  crown  that  will  glorify  your  head." 

He  laid  his  hand  on  her  head,  but  she  wildly  shook  it 
off. 

"No,"  cried  she,  with  heavy,  faltering  tongue,  as  if 
confused  in  a  dream.  "Away  with  this  crown!  I  wish 
no  crown  upon  which  devils  have  laid  a  spell.  I  wish  no 
royal  robe  that  has  been  dyed  crimson  with  the  blood  of 
my  beloved." 

"  She  is  still  in  the  delirium  of  her  anguish,"  muttered 
the  earl,  as  he  contemplated  the  pale,  trembling  woman 
who  had  now  sunk  again  to  her  knees,  and  was  staring 
straight  before  her  with  eyes  bewildered  and  stretched 
wide  open.  But  the  looks  of  the  earl  remained  cold  and 
unmoved,  and  not  the  least  compassion  was  aroused  in  him 
for  his  poor  daughter,  now  penetrated  with  anguish. 

"  Arise,"  said  he,  in  a  hard,  steelly  voice.  "  The 
Church,  by  my  mouth,  commands  you  to  serve  her  as  you 
have  vowed  to  do;  that  is  to  »ay,  with  glad  heart  and  a 
sense  of  your  reliance  on  God;  that  is  to  say,  witli  smiling 
lips  and  a  serene,  beaming  eye,  as  becomes  a  disciple  in- 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

Bpired  by  faith,  and  as  you  have  sworn  to  do  in  the  hands 
of  our  lord  and"  master,  Ignatius  Loyola." 

"I  cannot!  I  cannot!"  moaned  she,  in  a  low  tone. 
"  I  cannot  be  glad  at  heart  when  despair,  like  a  wild  boar, 
is  rending  my  heart;  I  cannot  command  my  eye  to  shine 
when  my  eyes  are  dimmed  with  tears  of  anguish.  Oh,  have 
pity,  have  compassion!  Kemember  that  you  are  my  fa- 
ther; that  I  am  your  daughter — the  daughter  of  a  wife 
whom  you  loved,  and  who  would  find  in  the  grave  no  rest 
if  she  knew  how  you  are  racking  and  torturing  me.  My 
mother,  my  mother,  if  thy  spirit  is  near  me,  come  and 
protect  me.  Let  thy  mild  looks  overshadow  my  head,  and 
breathe  a  breath  of  thy  love  into  the  heart  of  this  cruel 
father,  who  is  ready  to  sacrifice  his  child  on  the  altar  of 
his  God." 

"  God  has  called  me,"  said  the  earl,  "  and,  like  Abra- 
ham, I  too  will  learn  to  obey.  But  I  will  not  adorn  my 
victim  with  flowers,  but  with  a  royal  crown.  I  will  not 
plunge  a  knife  into  her  breast,  but  will  put  a  golden  scep- 
tre into  her  hand  and  say:  Thou  art  a  queen  before  men, 
but  before  God  be  thou  a  faithful  and  obedient  servant. 
Thou  hast  all  to  command.  But  the  holy  Church,  to 
whose  service  thou  hast  consecrated  thyself,  and  who  will 
bless  thee  if  thou  art  faithful,  who  will  dash  thee  in  pieces 
with  her  curse  if  thou  darest  deal  treacherously,  she  com- 
mands thee.  No,  you  are  not  my  daughter,  but  the  priest- 
ess of  the  Church,  consecrated  to  her  holy  service.  No,  I 
have  no  sympathy  with  your  tears  and  this  anguish,  for  I 
see  the  end  of  these  sorrows,  and  I  know  that  these  tears 
will  be  as  a  diadem  of  pearls  about  your  temples.  Lady 
Jane  Douglas,  it  is  the  saintly  Loyola  who  sends  you  his 
commands  by  my  mouth.  Obey  them,  not  because  I  am 
your  father,  but  because  I  am  the  general  to  whom  yon 
have  sworn  obedience  and  fidelity  unto  your  life's  end." 

"  Then  kill  me,  my  father!  "  said  she,  feebly.  "  Let 
this  life  end,  which  is  but  a  torture,  a  protracted  martyr- 
dom. Punish  me  for  my  disobedience  by  plunging  your 


182  IIKXIIY    VIII.    AND    HIS   COUKT. 

dagger  deep  into  my  breast.  Punish  me,  and  grudge  me 
not  the  repose  of  the  grave." 

"  Poor  enthusiast!  "  said  the  father;  "  suppose  you,  wo 
would  be  foolish  enough  to  subject  you  to  so  light  a  punish- 
ment! No,  no,  if  you  dare,  in  insolent  disobedience,  rebel 
against  my  commands,  your  penance  shall  be  a  terrible 
one,  and  your  punishment  without  end.  I  will  not  kill 
you,  but  him  whom  you  love;  it  will  be  his  head  that  falls; 
and  you  will  be  his  murderess.  He  shall  die  on  the  scaffold 
and  you — you  shall  live  in  disgrace." 

"Oh,  horrible!"  groaned  Jane,  as  she  buried  her  face 
in  her  hands. 

Her  father  continued:  "  Silly,  short-sighted  child,  who 
thought  she  could  play  with  the  sword,  and  did  not  see 
that  she  herself  might  feel  the  stroke  of  this  double-edged 
blade!  You  wanted  to  be  the  servant  of  the  Church,  that 
you  might  thereby  become  mistress  of  the  world.  You 
would  acquire  glory,  but  this  glory  must  not  singe  your 
head  with  its  fiery  rays.  Silly  child!  he  who  plays  with 
fire  will  be  consumed.  But  we  penetrated  your  thoughts 
and  the  wish  of  which  you  yourself  were  unconscious.  We 
looked  into  the  depths  of  your  being,  and  when  we  found 
love  there,  we  made  use  of  love  for  our  own  purposes  and 
your  salvation.  What  do  you  bewail,  then,  and  why  do 
you  weep?  Have  we  not  allowed  you  to  love?  Have  we 
not  authorized  you  to  give  yourself  entirely  up  to  this 
love?  Do  you  not  call  yourself  Earl  Surrey's  wife,  though 
you  cannot  name  to  me  the  priest  that  married  you?  Lady 
Jane,  obey,  and  we  envy  you  not  the  happiness  of  your 
love;  dare  to  rebel  against  us,  and  disgrace  and  shame 
overtake  you,  and  you  shall  stand  before  all  the  world  dis- 
owned and  scoffed  at;  you  the  strumpet,  that " 

"  Stop,  my  father! "  cried  Jane,  as  she  sprang  vehe- 
mently from  the  floor.  "  Desist  from  your  terrible  words 
if  you  do  not  wish  me  to  die  of  shame.  Nay,  I  submit, 
I  ob«-y!  You  are  right,  I  cannot  draw  back." 

"  And  wliy  would  you  cither?     Is  it  not  a  life  pleasant 


HENRY   VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  183 

and  full  of  enjoyment?  Is  it  not  rare  good  fortune  to  see 
our  sins  transfigured  to  virtue;  to  be  able  to  account  earth- 
ly enjoyment  the  service  of  Heaven?  And  what  do  you  be- 
wail then?  That  he  does  not  love  you?  Nay,  he  does 
love  you;  his  vows  of  love  still  echo  in  your  ears;  your 
heart  still  trembles  with  the  fruition  of  happiness.  What 
matters  it  if  the  Earl  of  Surrey  with  his  inward  eyes  sees 
the  woman  he  folds  in  his  arms  to  be  another  than  you? 
Yet  in  reality  he  loves  but  you  alone.  Whether  you  are 
for  him  named  Catharine  Parr  or  Jane  Douglas,  it  is  all  the 
same  if  you  only  are  his  love." 

"  But  a  day  will  come  when  he  will  discover  his  mis- 
take, and  when  he  will  curse  me." 

"  That  day  will  never  come.  The  holy  Church  will 
find  a  way  to  avert  that,  if  you  bow  to  her  will  and  are  obe- 
dient to  her." 

"I  do  bow  to  it!"  sighed  Jane.  "I  will  obey;  only 
promise  me,  my  father,  that  no  harm  shall  happen  to  him; 
that  I  shall  not  be  his  murderess." 

"  No,  you  shall  become  his  savior  and  deliverer.  Only 
you  must  fulfil  punctually  the  work  I  commit  to  you. 
First  of  all,  then,  tell  me  the  result  of  your  meeting  to-day. 
He  does  not  doubt  that  you  are  the  queen?  " 

"  No,  he  believes  it  so  firmly  that  he  would  take  the 
sacrament  on  it.  That  is  to  say,  he  believes  it  now  be- 
cause I  have  promised  him  to  give  him  publicly  a  sign  by 
which  he  may  recognize  that  it  is  the  queen  that  loves 
him." 

"And  this  sign?"  inquired  her  father,  with  a  look 
beaming  with  joy. 

"  I  have  promised  him  that  at  the  great  tournament, 
the  queen  will  give  him  a  rosette,  and  that  in  that  rosette 
he  will  find  a  note  from  the  queen." 

"Ah,  the  idea  is  an  admirable  one!"  exclaimed  Lord 
Douglas,  "  and  only  a  woman  who  wishes  to  avenge  herself 
could  conceive  it.  So,  then,  the  queen  will  become  her 
own  accuser,  and  herself  give  into  our  hands  a  proof  of  her 


184  HENRY    VHI.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

guilt.  The  only  difficulty  in  the  way  is  to  bring  the 
queen,  without  arousing  her  suspicion,  to  wear  thia  rosette, 
and  to  give  it  to  Surrey." 

"  She  will  do  it  if  I  beg  her  to  do  so,  for  she  loves  me; 
and  I  shall  so  represent  it  to  her  that  she  will  do  it  as  an 
act  of  kindness  to  me.  Catharine  is  good-natured  and 
agreeable,  and  cannot  refuse  a  request." 

"  And  I  will  apprise  the  king  of  it.  That  is  to  say,  I 
shall  take  good  care  not  to  do  this  myself,  for  it  is  always 
dangerous  to  approach  a  hungry  tiger  in  his  cage  and  carry 
him  his  food,  because  lie  might  in  his  voracity  very  readily 
devour  our  own  hand  together  with  the  proffered  meat/" 

"But  how?"  asked  she  with  an  expression  of  alarm. 
"  Will  he  content  himself  with  punishing  Catharine  alone; 
will  he  not  also  crush  him— him  whom  he  must  look  upon 
as  her  lover? '' 

"  He  will  do  so.  But  you  yourself  shall  save  him  and 
set  him  free.  You  shall  open  his  prison  and  give  him 
freedom,  and  he  will  love  you — you,  the  savior  of  his  life." 

"  Father,  father,  it  is  a  hazardous  game  that  you  are 
playing;  and  it  may  happen  that  you  will  become  thereby 
your  daughter's  murderer.  For,  listen  well  to  what  I  tell 
you;  if  Ms  head  falls,  I  die  by  my  own  hands;  if  you  make 
me  his  murderess,  you  become  thereby  mine;  and  I  will 
curse  you  and  execrate  you  in  hell!  What  to  me  is  a 
royal  crown  if  it  is  stained  with  Henry  Howard's  blood? 
What  care  I  for  renown  and  honor,  if  he  is  not  there  to  see 
my  greatness,  and  if  his  beaming  eyes  do  not  reflect  tack 
to  me  the  light  of  my  crown?  Protect  him,  therefore; 
guard  his  life  as  the  apple  of  your  eye,  if  you  wish  me  to 
accept  the  royal  crown  that  you  offer  me,  so  that  the 
King  of  England  may  become  again  a  vassal  of  the 
Church!" 

"  And  that  the  whole  of  devout  Christendom  may 
i»nuse  Jane  Douglas,  the  pious  queen  who  has  succeeded 
in  the  holy  work  of  bringing  the  rebellious  and  recreant 
son  of  the  Church,  Henry  the  Eighth,  back  to  the  Holy 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  185 

Father  in  Rome,  to  the  only  consecrated  lord  of  the 
Church,  truly  penitent.  On,  on,  my  daughter;  do  not 
despond.  A  high  aim  beckons  you,  and  a  brilliant  fortune 
awaits  you!  Our  holy  mother,  the  Church,  will  bless  and 
praise  you,  and  Henry  the  Eighth  will  declare  you  hia 
queen." 


CHAPTEE   XX. 

THE  PBISONER. 

STILL  all  was  calm  and  quiet  in  the  palace  of  White- 
hall. Nothing  was  stirring,  and  nobody  had  heard  how 
Lady  Jane  Douglas  left  her  chamber  and  glided  down  the 
corridor. 

No  one  has  heard  it,  and  no  eye  is  awake,  and  none 
sees  what  is  now  taking  place  in  the  queen's  room. 

She  is  alone — all  alone.  The  servants  are  all  asleep 
in  their  chambers.  The  queen  herself  has  bolted  the 
doors  of  the  anteroom  on  the  inside,  and  no  other  door 
leads  into  her  boudoir  and  bedroom,  except  through  this 
anteroom.  She  is  therefore  perfectly  secluded,  perfectly 
secure. 

Speedily  and  in  haste  she  envelops  herself  in  a  long 
black  mantle,  the  hood  of  which  she  draws  well  over  her 
head  and  brow,  and  which  completely  covers  and  conceals 
her  form. 

And  now  she  presses  on  a  spring  inserted  in  the  frame 
of  a  picture.  The  picture  flies  back  and  shows  an  opening, 
through  which  a  person  can  quite  conveniently  pass  out. 

Catharine  does  so.  Then  she  carefully  pushes  the 
picture  back  to  its  place  from  the  outside,  and  for  a  long 
time  walks  on  in  the  passage  hollowed  out  of  the  solid 
wall,  till  groping  along  she  at  last  lays  hold  again  of  a 
knob  in  the  wall.  She  presses  on  it;  and  now  at  her  feet 
13 


186  HEXRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

opens  a  trap-door,  through  which  a  feeble  light  forces  its 
way  and  renders  visible  a  small  narrow  staircase  there 
situated.  Catharine  enters  and  descends  the  steps  with 
winged  feet.  Now  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase  she  again 
presses  on  a  secret  spring;  and  again  a  door  opens,  through 
which  the  queen  passes  into  a  large  hall. 

"  Oh,"  whispered  she,  fetching  a  long  breath,  "  the 
green  summer  house  at  last." 

She  quickly  traversed  it  and  opened  the  next  door. 

"John  Hey  wood?" 

"  I  am  here,  queen!  " 

"Hush,  hush!  gently  as  possible,  that  the  watch,  who 
walks  up  and  down  just  behind  the  door,  may  not  hear  us. 
Come,  we  still  have  a  long  walk — let  us  make  haste." 

Again  she  pressed  on  a  spring  inserted  in  the  wall; 
and  again  a  door  opens.  But  before  Catharine  bolts  this 
door,  she  takes  the  lamp  burning  on  the  table  there,  which 
is  to  lighten  the  dark  and  difficult  path  through  which 
they  are  now  to  wend  their  way. 

Now  she  bolts  the  door  behind  them;  and  they  enter  a 
long,  dark  corridor,  at  the  end  of  which  is  found  still  an- 
other staircase,  and  down  which  they  both  go.  Number- 
less steps  conduct  them  below;  gradually  the  air  becomes 
dense,  the  steps  moist.  The  stillness  of  the  grave  is 
around  them.  No  sound  of  life,  not  the  least  noise,  is  now 
perceptible. 

They  are  in  a  subterranean  passage,  which  stretches 
out  in  length  before  them  farther  than  the  eye  can  reach. 

Catharine  turns  to  John  Hey  wood;  the  lamp  lights  up 
her  face,  which  is  pale,  but  exhibits  an  expression  firm  and 
resolute. 

"  John  Hey  wood,  reflect  once  more!  I  ask  not  whether 
you  have  courage,  for  I  know  that.  I  only  wish  to  know 
whether  you  will  employ  this  courage  for  your  queen?  " 

"  No,  not  for  the  queen,  but  for  the  noble  woman  who 
has  saved  my  son." 

"You  must  then  be  my  protector  to-day  if  we  meet 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  187 

with  dangers.  But  if  it  be  God's  will,  we  shall  encounter 
no  dangers.  Let  us  go." 

They  go  vigorously  forward,  silent  all  the  way. 

At  length  they  come  to  a  place  where  the  passage 
grows  broader,  and  spreads  out  into  a  little  open  chamber, 
on  the  side  walls  of  which  a  few  seats  are  placed. 

"  We  have  now  accomplished  half  of  the  journey,"  said 
Catharine;  "  and  here  we  will  rest  a  little." 

She  placed  the  lamp  on  the  small  marble  table  in  the 
middle  of  the  passage,  and  sat  down,  pointing  to  John 
Heywood  to  take  a  seat  near  her. 

"  I  am  not  the  queen,  here,"  said  she;  "  and  you  are 
not  the  king's  fool;  but  I  am  a  poor  weak  woman,  and  you 
are  my  protector.  You  may,  therefore,  well  have  the 
right  to  sit  by  me." 

But  John  shook  his  head  with  a  smile,  and  sat  down  at 
her  feet.  "  St.  Catharine,  savior  of  my  son,  I  lie  at  thy 
feet,  and  devoutly  return  thanks  to  thee." 

"  John,  are  you  acquainted  with  this  subterranean  pas- 
sage ?  "  asked  the  queen. 

John  gave  a  sad  smile.  "  I  am  acquainted  with  it, 
queen." 

"Ah,  you  know  it?  I  supposed  it  was  a  secret  of  the 
king  and  queen." 

"  Then  you  will  readily  conceive  that  the  fool  knows  it. 
For  the  King  of  England  and  the  fool  are  twin  brothers. 
Yes,  queen,  I  know  this  passage;  and  I  once  wended  it  in 
anguish  and  tears." 

"What!     You  yourself,  John  Heywood?" 

"  Yes,  queen.  And  now  I  ask  you,  do  you  know  the 
history  of  this  underground  passage?  You  are  silent. 
Now,  well  for  you  that  you  do  not  know  it.  It  is  a  long 
and  bloody  history,  and  if  I  should  narrate  to  you  the 
whole  of  it,  the  night  would  be  too  short  for  it.  When 
this  passage  was  built,  Henry  was  still  young,  and  possessed 
yet  a  heart.  At  that  time,  he  loved  not  merely  his  wive?, 
but  his  friends  and  servants  also — specially  Cromwell,  the 


138  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

all-powerful  minister.  He  then  resided  at  Whitehall,  and 
Henry  in  the  royal  apartments  of  the  Tower.  But  Henry 
was  always  longing  for  his  favorite;  and  so  Cromwell  one 
day  surprised  him  with  this  subterranean  passage,  the  con- 
struction of  which  had  occupied  a  hundred  men  a  whole 
year.  Ah,  ah,  the  king  was  then  very  much  moved,  and 
thanked  his  powerful  minister  for  this  surprise  with  tears 
and  hugs.  There  passed  scarcely  a  day  that  Henry  did 
not  go  to  Cromwell  through  this  passage.  So  he  saw  each 
day  how  the  palace  of  Whitehall  became  more  and  more 
splendid  and  glorious;  and  when  he  returned  to  the 
Tower,  he  discovered  that  this  residence  was  altogether 
unworthy  of  a  king;  but  that  his  minister  lived  by  far 
more  magnificently  than  the  King  of  England.  That, 
queen,  was  the  cause  of  Cromwell's  fall!  The  king 
wanted  Whitehall.  The  sly  Cromwell  noticed  it,  and 
made  him  a  present  of  his  gem,  the  palace  on  whose  con- 
struction and  decoration  he  had  labored  ten  years.  Henry 
accepted  the  present;  but  notf  Cromwell's  fall  was  irrev- 
ocable. The  king  could  not,  of  course,  forgive  Cromwell 
for  having  dared  to  offer  him  a  present  so  valuable,  that 
Henry  could  not  or  would  not  repay  it.  He  remained, 
therefore,  Cromwell's  debtor;  and  since  this  tormented 
and  vexed  him,  he  swore  Cromwell's  ruin.  When  Henry 
moved  into  Whitehall,  it  was  concluded  that  Cromwell 
must  ascend  the  scaffold.  Ah,  the  king  is  such  an  econom- 
ical builder!  A  palace  costs  him  nothing  but  the  head 
of  a  subject.  With  Cromwell's  head  he  paid  for  White- 
hall; and  Wolsey  died  for  Hampton  Court." 

"  Not  on  the  scaffold,  though,  John." 

"  Oh,  no;  Henry  preferred  merely  to  break  his  heart, 
and  not  his  head.  First,  he  had  that  wonderful  pleasure- 
villa,  Hampton  Court,  with  all  its  treasures,  presented  him 
by  Wolsey;  then  he  removed  him  from  all  his  offices,  and 
deprived  him  of  all  his  honor?.  Finally,  he  was  to  go  to 
the  Tower  as  a  prisoner;  but  he  died  on  his  way  thither. 
No,  you  are  right!  Wolsey  did  not  die  on  the  scaffold,  he 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  189 

was  put  to  death  much  more  slowly  and  more  cruelly.  He 
was  not  killed  with  the  sword,  but  pricked  to  death  with 
pins! " 

"  Did  you  not  say,  John,  that  you  had  travelled  this 
way  once  before  ?  " 

"  Yes,  queen,  and  I  did  it  to  bid  farewell  to  the  noblest 
of  men,  and  the  truest  of  friends,  Thomas  More!  I  begged 
and  besought  Cromwell  go  long  that  he  had  compassion  on 
my  anguish,  and  allowed  me  to  go  through  this  passage  to 
Thomas  More,  that  I  might  at  least  receive  the  blessing 
and  last  kiss  of  affection  of  this  saint.  Ah,  queen,  speak 
no  more  of  it  to  me!  From  that  day  I  became  a  fool;  for 
I  saw  it  was  not  worth  the  trouble  to  be  an  honest  man, 
when  such  men  as  More  are  executed  as  criminals.  Come, 
queen,  let  us  go  on!  " 

"Yes,  on,  John!"  said  she,  rising.  "But  do  you 
know  then  whither  we  are  going?  " 

"Ah,  queen,  do  I  not  then  know  you?  and  did  I  not 
tell  you  that  Anne  Askew  is  to  be  stretched  upon  the  rack 
to-morrow,  unless  she  recant?" 

"  I  see  that  you  have  understood  me,"  said  she,  giv- 
ing him  a  friendly  nod.  "  Yes,  I  am  going  to  Anne 
Askew/' 

"  But  how  will  you,  without  being  seen  and  discovered, 
find  out  her  Cell?  " 

"John,  even  the  unhappy  have  friends.  Yes,  the 
queen  herself  has  a  few;  and  so  chance,  or  it  may  be  even 
God's  will,  has  so  arranged  matters,  that  Anne  Askew  is 
occupying,  just  at  this  time,  that  small  room  in  which  the 
secret  passage  terminates." 

"  Is  she  alone  in  that  room  ?  " 

"  Yes,  all  alone.  The  guard  stands  without  before  the 
door." 

"  And  should  they  hear  you,  and  open  the  door?  " 

"  Then  without  doubt  I  am  lost,  unless  God  supports 
me." 

They  walked  on  in  silence,  both  too  much  occupied 


190  HKXUY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

with  their  own  thoughts  to  interrupt  them  by  conversa- 
tion. 

But  this  long,  extended  walk  at  length  wearied  Cath- 
arine. She  leaned  exhausted  against  the  wall. 

"Will  you  do  me  a  favor,  queen?"  asked  John  Hey- 
wood.  "  Permit  me  to  carry  you.  Your  little  feet  can 
bear  you  no  farther;  make  me  your  feet,  your  majesty!  " 

She  refused  with  a  friendly  smile.  "  No,  John,  these 
are  the  passion-stations  of  a  saint;  and  you  know  one  must 
make  the  round  of  them  in  the  sweat  of  his  face,  and  on 
his  knees." 

"  Oh,  queen,  how  noble  and  how  courageous  you  are! " 
exclaimed  John  Heywood.  "  You  do  good  without  dis- 
play, and  you  shun  no  danger,  if  it  avails  toward  the  ac- 
complishment of  noble  work." 

"  Yet,  John,"  said  she,  with  a  bewitching  smile,  "  I 
dread  danger;  and  just  on  that  account  I  begged  you  to 
accompany  me.  I  shudder  at  the  long,  desolate  way,  at 
the  darkness  and  grave-like  stillness  of  this  passage.  Ah, 
John,  I  thought  to  myself,  if  I  came  here  alone,  the  shades 
of  Anne  Boleyn  and  Catharine  would  be  roused  from  their 
sleep  by  me  who  wear  their  crown;  they  would  IK»V«T 
about  me,  and  seize  me  by  the  hand  and  lead  me  to  their 
graves,  to  show  me  that  there  is  yet  room  there  for  me 
likewise.  You  see,  then,  that  I  am  not  at  all  courageous, 
but  a  cowardly  and  trembling  woman." 

"  And  nevertheless,  you  came,  queen." 

"  I  reckoned  on  you,  John  Heywood.  It  was  my  duty 
to  risk  this  passage,  to  save,  perchance,  the  life  of  the  poor 
enthusiastic  girl.  For  it  shall  not  be  said  that  Catharine 
deserts  her  friends  in  misfortune,  and  that  she  shrinks 
back  at  danger.  I  am  but  a  poor,  weak  woman,  John,  who 
cannot  defend  her  friends  with  weapons,  and,  therefore,  I 
must  resort  to  other  means.  But  see,  John,  here  the  path 
forks!  Ah,  my  God!  I  know  it  only  from  the  description 
that  was  given  me,  but  no  one  said  anything  of  this  to  me. 
John,  which  \vav  must  we  now  turn?  " 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  191 

"  This  way,  queen;  and  here  we  are  at  the  end  of  our 
journey.  That  path  there  leads  to  the  torture-chamber, 
that  is  to  say,  to  a  small  grated  window,  through  which  one 
can  overlook  that  room.  When  King  Henry  was  in  special 
good-humor,  he  would  resort  with  his  friend  to  this  grating 
to  divert  himself  a  little  with  the  tortures  of  the  damned 
and  blasphemers.  For  you  well  know,  queen,  only  such  as 
have  blasphemed  God,  or  have  not  recognized  King  Henry 
as  the  pope  of  their  Church,  have  the  honor  of  the  rack 
as  their  due.  But  hush!  here  we  are  at  the  door,  and 
here  is  the  spring  that  opens  it." 

Catharine  set  her  lamp  on  the  ground  and  pressed  the 
spring. 

The  door  turned  slowly  and  noiselessly  on  its  hinges, 
and  softly,  like  shades,  the  two  entered. 

They  now  found  themselves  in  a  small,  circular  apart- 
ment, wnich  seemed  to  have  been  originally  a  niche  formed 
in  the  wall  of  the  Tower,  rather  than  a  room.  Through  a 
narrow  grated  opening  in  the  wall  only  a  little  air  and 
light  penetrated  into  this  dungeon,  the  bald,  bare  walls  of 
which  showed  the  stones  of  the  masonry.  There  was  no 
chair,  no  table  in  the  whole  space;  only  yonder  in  that 
corner  on  the  earth  they  had  heaped  up  some  straw.  On 
this  straw  lay  a  pale,  tender  creature;  the  sunken,  thin 
cheeks,  transparently  white  as  alabaster;  the  brow  so  pure 
and  clear;  the  entire  countenance  so  peaceful;  the  bare, 
meagre  arms  thrown  back  over  the  head;  the  hands  folded 
over  the  forehead;  the  head  bent  to  one  side  in  quiet, 
peaceful  slumber;  the  delicate,  tender  form  wrapped  in  a 
long  black  dress,  gently  stretched  out,  and  on  her  lips  a 
smile,  such  as  only  the  happy  know. 

That  was  Anne  Askew,  the  criminal,  the  condemned — 
Anne  Askew,  who  was  an  atheist  only  for  this,  because  she 
did  not  believe  in  the  king's  vast  elevation  and  godlike- 
ness,  and  would  not  subject  her  own  free  soul  to  that  of 
the  king. 

"  She   sleeps,"   whispered    Catharine,    deeply    moved. 


192  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

Wholly  involuntarily  she  folded  her  hands  as  she  stepped 
to  the  couch  of  the  sufferer,  and  a  low  prayer  trembled  on 
her  lips. 

"So  sleep  the  just!"  said  Heywood.  "Angels  com- 
fort them  in  their  slumbers;  and  the  breath  of  God  re- 
freshes them.  Poor  girl;  how  soon,  and  they  will  wrench 
these  noble,  fair  limbs,  and  torture  thee  for  the  honor  of 
God,  and  open  to  tones  of  distress  that  mouth  which  now 
smiles  so  peacefully! " 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  queen,  hastily.  "  I  have  come  to 
save  her,  and  God  will  assist  me  to  do  it.  I  cannot  spare 
her  slumbers  any  longer.  I  must  wake  her." 

She  bent  down  and  pressed  a  kiss  on  the  young  girl's 
forehead.  "  Anne,  awake;  I  am  here!  I  will  save  you  and 
set  you  free.  Anne,  Anne,  awake! " 

She  slowly  raised  her  large,  brilliant  eyes,  and  nodded 
a  salutation  to  Catharine. 

"  Catharine  Parr! "  said  she,  with  a  smile.  "  I  ex- 
pected only  a  letter  from  you;  and  have  you  come  your- 
self?" 

"The  guards  have  been  dismissed,  and  the  turnkeys 
changed,  Anne;  for  our  correspondence  had  been  discov- 
ered." 

"  Ah,  you  will  write  to  me  no  more  in  future!  And 
yet  your  letters  were  my  only  comfort,"  sighed  Anne  As- 
kew. "But  that  also  is  well;  and  perhaps  it  will  only 
make  the  path  that  I  have  to  tread  still  easier.  The  heart 
must  set  itself  free  from  all  earthly  bonds,  that  the  soul 
may  move  its  pinions  freely  and  easily,  and  return  to  God." 

"  Hear  me,  Anne,  hear,"  said  Catharine  in  a  low  and 
hurried  voice.  "  A  terrible  danger  threatens  you!  The 
king  has  given  orders  to  move  you,  by  means  of  the  rack, 
to  recant." 

"Well,  and  what  more?"  asked  Anne,  with  smiling 
face. 

"  Unfortunate,  you  know  not  what  you  are  saying! 
You  know  not  what  fearful  agonies  await  you!  You  know 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS   COUKT.  193 

not  the  power  of  pains,  which  are  perhaps  still  mightier 
than  the  spirit,  and  may  overcome  it." 

"And  if  I  did  know  them  now,  what  would  it  avail 
me?  "  asked  Anne  Askew.  "  You  say  they  will  put  me  to 
the  rack.  Well,  then,  I  shall  have  to  bear  it,  for  I  have 
no  power  to  change  their  will." 

"  Yet,  Anne,  yet  you  have  the  power!  Retract  what 
you  have  said,  Anne!  Declare  that  you  repent,  and  that 
you  perceive  that  you  have  been  deluded!  Say  that  you 
will  recognize  the  king  as  lord  of  the  Church;  that  you 
will  swear  to  the  six  articles,  and  never  believe  in  the  Pope 
of  Rome.  Ah,  Anne,  God  sees  your  heart  and  knows  your 
thoughts.  You  have  no  need  to  make  them  known  by 
your  lips.  He  has  given  you  life,  and  you  have  no  right 
to  throw  it  away;  you  must  seek  to  keep  it  so  long  as  you 
can.  Recant,  then!  It  is  perfectly  allowable  to  deceive 
those  who  would  murder  us.  Recant,  then,  Anne,  recant! 
When  they  in  their  haughty  arrogance  demand  of  you  to 
say  what  they  say,  consider  them  as  lunatics,  to  whom  you 
make  apparent  concessions  only  to  keep  them  from  raving. 
Of  what  consequence  is  it  whether  you  do  or  do  not  say 
that  the  king  is  the  head  of  the  Church?  From  His 
heavens  above,  God  looks  down  and  smiles  at  this  petty 
earthly  strife  which  concerns  not  Him,  but  men  only. 
Let  scholars  and  theologians  wrangle;  we  women  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  If  we  only  believe  in  God,  and  bear 
Him  to  our  hearts,  the  form  in  which  we  do  it  is  a  matter 
of  indifference.  But  in  this  case  the  question  is  not  about 
God,  but  merely  about  external  dogmas.  Why  should  you 
trouble  yourself  with  these?  What  have  you  to  do  with 
the  controversies  of  the  priests?  Recant,  then,  poor  en- 
thusiastic child,  recant!'* 

While  Catharine,  in  a  low  tone  and  with  fluttering 
breath,  thus  spoke,  Anne  Askew  had  slowly  arisen  from 
her  couch,  and  now  stood,  like  a  lily,  so  slender  and  deli- 
cate, confronting  the  queen. 

Her  noble  countenance   expressed  deep   indignation. 


104  TIKNRY    VIII.    AM)    HIS    COURT. 

Her  eyes  shot  lightning,  and  a  contemptuous  smile  was  on 
her  lips. 

"What!  Can  you  thus  advise  me?"  said  she.  "Can 
you  wish  me  to  deny  my  faith,  and  abjure  my  God,  only 
to  escape  earthly  pain?  And  your  tongue  does  not  refuse 
to  utter  this,  and  your  heart  does  not  shrink  with  shame 
while  you  do  it?  Look  at  these  arms;  what  are  they 
worth  that  I  should  not  sacrifice  them  to  God?  See  these 
feeble  limbs!  Are  they  so  precious  that  I,  like  a  disgust- 
ing niggard,  should  spare  them?  No,  no,  God  is  my  high- 
est good — not  this  feeble,  decaying  body!  For  God  I 
sacrifice  it.  I  should  recant?  Never!  Faith  is  not  en- 
veloped in  this  or  that  garb;  it  must  be  naked  and  open. 
So  may  mine  be.  And  if  I  then  am  chosen  to  be  an  ex- 
ample of  pure  faith,  that  denies  not,  and  makes  profession 
— well,  then,  envy  me  not  this  preeminence.  '  Many  are 
called,  but  few  are  chosen/  If  I  am  one  of  the  chosen,  I 
thank  God  for  it,  and  bless  the  erring  mortals  who  wish 
to  make  me  such  by  means  of  the  torture  of  the  rack.  Ah, 
believe  me,  Catharine,  I  rejoice  to  die,  for  it  is  such  a  sad, 
desolate,  and  desperate  thing  to  live.  Let  me  die,  Cath- 
arine— die,  to  enter  into  blessedness!  " 

"But,  poor,  pitiable  child!  this  is  more  than  death; 
it  is  the  torture  of  earth  that  threatens  you.  Oh,  be- 
think you,  Anne,  that  you  are  only  a  feeble  woman.  Who 
knows  whether  the  rack  may  not  yet  conquer  your  spirit, 
and  whether  you,  with  your  mangled  limbs,  may  not  by 
the  fury  of  the  pain  yet  be  brought  to  that  point  that  you 
will  recant  and  abjure  your  faith?  " 

"  If  I  could  do  that,"  cried  Anne  Askew,  with  flashing 
eyes,  "  believe  me,  queen,  as  soon  as  I  came  to  my  senses  I 
would  lay  violent  hands  on  myself,  in  order  to  give  myself 
over  to  eternal  damnation,  as  the  punishment  of  my  re- 
cantation! God  has  ordered  that  I  shall  be  a  sign  of  the 
tnie  faith.  Bo  His  command  fulfilled!  " 

"  Well,  then,  so  be  it,"  paid  Catharine  resolutely.  "  Do 
not  recant,  but  save  yourself  from  your  oxcc-ut  loners!  I, 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  195 

Anne,  I,  will  save  you!  I  cannot  bear — I  cannot  think  of 
it — that  this  dear  noble  form  should  be  sacrificed  to  a  vile 
delusion  of  man;  that  they  will  torture  to  the  honor  of 
God  a  noble  likeness  of  the  same  God!  Oh,  come,  come,  I 
will  save  you!  I,  the  queen!  Give  me  your  hand.  Fol- 
low me  out  of  this  dungeon.  I  know  a  path  that  leads 
out  of  this  place;  and  I  will  conceal  you  so  long  in  my 
own  apartments  that  you  can  continue  your  flight  without 
danger." 

"No,  no,  queen,  you  shall  not  conceal  her  with  you!" 
said  John  Heywood.  "  You  have  been  graciously  pleased 
to  allow  me  to  be  your  confidant;  envy  me  not,  then,  a 
share  in  your  noble  work  also.  Not  with  you  shall  Anne 
Askew  find  refuge,  but  with  me.  Oh,  come,  Anne,  follow 
your  friends.  It  is  life  that  calls  you,  that  opens  the  doors 
to  you,  and  desires  to  call  you  by  a  thousand  names  to  it- 
self! Do  you  not  hear  them,  all  those  sweet  and  alluring 
voices;  do  you  not  see  them,  all  those  noble  and  smiling 
faces,  how  they  greet  you  and  beckon  to  you?  Anne  As- 
kew, it  is  the  noble  husband  that  calls  you!  You  know 
him  not  as  yet,  but  he  is  waiting  for  you  there  in  the  world 
without.  Anne  Askew,  there  are  your  children,  who  are 
stretching  their  tender  arms  out  to  you.  You  have  not 
yet  borne  them;  but  love  holds  them  in  her  arms,  and  will 
bring  them  to  meet  you.  It  is  the  wife  and  the  mother 
that  the  world  yet  demands  of  you,  Anne.  You  ought  not 
to  shun  the  holy  calling  which  God  has  given  you.  Come, 
then,  and  follow  us — follow  your  queen,  who  has  the  right 
to  order  her  subject.  Follow  the  friend,  who  has 
sworn  that  he  will  watch  over  you  and  protect  you  as  a 
father! " 

"Father  in  heaven,  protect  me!"  exclaimed  Anne 
Askew,  falling  on  her  knees  and  stretching  her  hands  up- 
ward. "Father  in  heaven!  they  would  tear  away  Thy 
child,  and  alienate  my  heart  from  Thee!  They  are  lead- 
ing me  into  temptation  and  alluring  me  with  their  words. 
Protect  me,  my  Father;  make  my  ear  deaf,  that  I  ma)1 


•• 


196  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

not  hear  them!  Give  me  a  sign  that  I  am  Thine;  that  no 
one  has  any  longer  power  over  me,  save  Thou  alone!  A 
sign,  that  Thou,  Father,  callest  me! " 

And  as  if  God  had  really  heard  her  prayer,  a  loud 
knocking  was  now  perceived  at  the  outer  door,  and  a  voice 
cried:  "Anne  Askew,  awake!  and  hold  yourself  ready! 
The  high  chancellor  and  the  Bishop  of  Winchester  come  to 
fetch  you  away! " 

"Ah,  the  rack!"  groaned  Catharine,  as  with  a  shud- 
der she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"  Yes,  the  rack! "  said  Anne,  with  a  blissful  smile. 
"God  calls  me!" 

John  Hcywood  had  approached  the  queen  and  impetu- 
ously seized  her  hand.  "  You  see  it  is  in  tain,"  said  he, 
urgently.  "  Make  haste  then  to  save  yourself!  Hasten 
to  leave  this  prison  before  the  door  there  opens." 

"  No/'  said  Catharine,  firmly  and  resolutely.  "  No,  I 
stay.  She  shall  not  surpass  me  in  courage  and  greatness 
of  soulJ  She  will  not  deny  her  God;  well,  then,  I  also 
will  be  a  witness  of  my  God.  I  will  not  in  shame  cast  my 
eyes  to  the  ground  before  this  young  girl;  like  her,  I  will 
frankly  and  openly  profess  my  faith;  like  her  I  will  say: 
'  God  alone  is  Lord  of  his  Church/  God " 

There  was  a  movement  without;  a  key  was  heard  to 
turn  in  the  lock. 

"  Queen,  I  conjure  you,"  besought  John  Heywood,  "  by 
all  that  is  holy  to  you,  by  your  love,  come,  come!  " 

"  No,  no! "  cried  she,  vehemently. 

But  now  Anne  seized  her  hand,  and  stretching  the 
other  arm  toward  heaven,  she  said  in  a  loud,  commanding 
voice:  "  In  the  name  of  God,  I  order  you  to  leave  me!  " 

While  Catharine  drew  back  wholly  involuntarily,  John 
Heywood  pushed  her  to  the  secret  door,  and  urging  her  out 
almost  with  violence,  he  drew  the  door  to  behind  them 
both. 

Just  as  the  secret  door  had  closed,  the  other  on  the 
opposite  side  opened. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  197 

"  With  whom  were  you  speaking? "  asked  Gardiner, 
peering  around  the  room  with  a  sharp  look. 

"  With  the  tempter,  that  wished  to  alienate  me  from 
God,"  said  she — "  with  the  tempter,  who  at  the  approach 
of  your  footsteps  wanted  to  fool  my  heart  with  fear,  and 
persuade  me  to  recant!  " 

"  You  are,  then,  firmly  resolved?  you  do  not  retract?  " 
asked  Gardiner;  and  a  savage  joy  shone  in  his  pale,  hard 
countenance. 

"  No,  I  do  not  recant! "  said  she,  with  a  face  beaming 
with  smiles. 

"  Then,  in  the  name  of  God  and  of  the  king,  I  take 
you  into  the  torture-chamber! "  cried  Chancellor  Wriotht 
esley,  as  he  advanced  and  laid  his  heavy  hand  on  Anne's 
shoulder.  "  You  would  not  hear  the  voice  of  love  warn- 
ing you  and  calling  you,  so  we  will  now  try  to  arouse  you 
from  your  madness  by  the  voice  of  wrath  and  damnation." 

He  beckoned  to  the  attendants  on  the  rack,  who  stood 
behind  him  in  the  open  door,  and  ordered  them  to  seize 
her  and  carry  her  to  the  torture-chamber. 

Anne,  smiling,  turned  them  back.  "Nay,  not  so!" 
said  she.  "  The  Saviour  went  on  foot,  and  bore  His  cross 
to  the  place  of  execution.  I  will  tread  His  path.  Show 
me  the  way,  I  follow  you.  But  let  no  one  dare  touch  me. 
I  will  show  you  that  not  by  constraint,  but  gladly  and  free- 
ly, I  tread  the  path  of  suffering,  which  I  shall  endure  for 
the  sake  of  my  God.  Rejoice,  oh  my  soul!— sing,  my  lips! 
for  the  bridegroom  is  near,  and  the  feast  is  about  to 
begin." 

And  in  exultant  tones  Anne  Askew  began  to  sing  a 
hymn,  that  had  not  died  away  when  she  entered  the  tor- 
ture-chamber. 


198  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

CHAPTER   XXI. 

PRINCESS     ELIZABETH. 

THE  king  sleeps.  Let  him  sleep!  He  is  old  and  in- 
firm, and  God  has  severely  punished  the  restless  tyrant 
with  a  vacillating,  ever-disquieted,  never-satisfied  spirit, 
while  He  bound  his  body  and  made  the  spirit  prisoner  of 
the  body;  while  He  made  the  ambitious  king,  struggling 
for  the  infinite,  a  slave  to  his  own  flesh.  How  high  so- 
ever his  thoughts  soar,  still  the  king  remains  a  clumsy, 
confined,  powerless  child  of  humanity;  how  much  soever 
his  conscience  harasses  him  with  disquiet  and  dread,  yet 
he  must  be  calm  and  endure  it.  He  cannot  run  away 
from  his  conscience;  God  has  fettered  him  by  the  flesh. 

The  king  is  sleeping!  But  the  queen  is  not;  and  Jane 
Douglas  is  not;  neither  is  the  Princess  Elizabeth. 

She  has  watched  with  heart  beating  high.  She  is  rest- 
less, and,  pacing  her  room  up  and  down  in  strange  confu- 
sion, waited  for  the  hour  that  she  had  appointed  for  the 
meeting.  Now  the  hour  had  arrived.  A  glowing  crimson 
overspread  the  face  of  the  young  princess;  and  her  hand 
trembled  as  she  took  the  light  and  opened  the  secret  door 
to  the  corridor.  She  stood  still  for  a  moment,  hesitating; 
then,  ashamed  of  her  irresolution,  she  crossed  the  corridor 
and  ascended  the  small  staircase  which  led  to  the  tower- 
chamber.  With  a  hasty  movement  she  pushed  open  the 
door  and  entered  the  room.  She  was  at  the  end  of  her 
journey,  and  Thomas  Seymour  was  already  there. 

As  she  saw  him,  an  involuntary  trepidation  came  over 
her,  and  for  the  first  time  she  now  became  conscious  of  her 
hazardous  step. 

As  Seymour,  the  ardent  young  man,  approached  her 
with  a  passionate  salutation,  she  stepped  shyly  back  and 
pushed  away  his  hand. 

"How!  you  will  not  allow  me  to  kiss  your  hand?" 
asked  he,  and  she  thought  she  observed  on  his  face  » 


HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

slight,  scornful  smile.  "  You  make  me  the  happiest  of 
mortals  by  inviting  me  to  this  interview,  and  now  you 
stand  before  me  rigid  and  cold,  and  I  am  not  once  per- 
mitted to  clasp  you  in  my  arms,  Elizabeth! " 

Elizabeth!  He  had  called  her  by  her  first  name  with- 
out her  having  given  him  permission  to  do  so.  That  of- 
fended her.  In  the  midst  of  her  confusion,  that  aroused 
the  pride  of  the  princess,  and  made  her  aware  how  much 
she  must  have  forgotten  her  own  dignity,  when  another 
could  be  so  forgetful  of  it. 

She  wished  to  regain  it.  At  this  moment  she  would 
have  given  a  year  of  her  life  if  she  had  not  taken  this 
step — if  she  had  not  invited  the  earl  to  this  meeting. 

She  wanted  to  try  and  regain  in  his  eyes  her  lost  posi- 
tion, and  again  to  become  to  him  the  princess. 

Pride  in  her  was  still  mightier  than  love.  She  meant 
her  lover  should  at  the  same  time  bow  before  her  as  her 
favored  servant. 

Therefore  she  gravely  said:  "  Earl  Thomas  Seymour, 
you  have  often  begged  us  for  a  private  conversation;  we 
now  grant  it  to  you.  Speak,  then!  what  matter  of  im- 
portance have  you  to  bring  before  us  ?  " 

And  with  an  air  of  gravity  she  stepped  to  an  easy-chair, 
on  which  she  seated  herself  slowly  and  solemnly  like  a 
queen,  who  gives  audience  to  her  vassals. 

Poor,  innocent  child,  that  in  her  unconscious  trepida- 
tion wished  to  intrench  herself  behind  her  grandeur,  as 
behind  a  shield,  which  might  conceal  her  maidenly  fear 
and  girlish  anxiety! 

Thomas  Seymour,  however,  divined  her  thoughts;  and 
his  proud  and  cold  heart  revolted  against  this  child's  at- 
tempt to  defy  him. 

He  wanted  to  humble  her;  he  wished  to  compel  her  to 
bow  before  him,  and  implore  his  love  as  a  gracious  gift. 

He  therefore  bowed  low  to  the  princess,  and  respect- 
fully said:  "Your  highness,  it  is  true  I  have  often  be- 
sought you  for  an  audience;  but  you  have  so  long  refused 


200  m.\i:i     Mil.   AND  HIS   COURT. 

me,  that  at  last  I  could  no  longer  summon  up  courage  to 
solicit  it;  and  I  let  my  wish  be  silent  and  my  heart  dumb. 
Therefore  seek  not  now,  when  these  pains  have  been  sub- 
dued, to  excite  them  again.  My  heart  should  remain 
dead,  my  lips  mute.  You  have  so  willed;  and  I  have  sub- 
mitted to  your  will.  Farewell,  then,  princess,  and  may 
your  days  be  happier  and  more  serene  than  those  of  poor 
Thomas  Seymour! " 

He  bowed  low  before  her,  and  then  went  slowly  to  the 
door.  He  had  already  opened  it  and  was  about  to  step 
out,  when  a  hand  was  suddenly  laid  on  his  shoulder 
and  drew  him  with  vehement  impetuosity  back  into  the 
room. 

"  Do  you  want  to  go?  "  asked  Elizabeth,  with  flutter- 
ing breath  and  trembling  voice.  "  You  want  to  leave  me, 
and,  flouting  me,  you  want  now,  it  may  be,  to  go  to  the 
Duchess  of  Eichmond,  your  mistress,  and  relate  to  her 
with  a  sneer  that  the  Princess  Elizabeth  granted  you  an 
interview,  and  that  you  have  flouted  her?  " 

"  The  Duchess  of  Kichmond  is  not  my  mistress,"  said 
the  earl,  earnestly. 

"  No,  not  your  mistress;  but  she  will  very  soon  be 
your  wife ! " 

"  She  will  never  be  my  wife!  " 

"And  why  not?" 

"  Because  I  do  not  love  her,  princess." 

A  beam  of  delight  passed  over  Elizabeth's  pale,  agi- 
tated face.  "  Why  do  yon  call  me  princess?  "  asked  she. 

"  Because  you  have  come  as  a  princess  to  favor  your 
poor  servant  with  an  audience.  But,  ah,  it  would  be 
greatly  abusing  your  princely  grace  did  I  want  to  protract 
this  audience  still  further.  I  therefore  retire,  princess." 

And  again  he  approached  the  door.  But  Elizabeth 
rushed  after  him,  and,  laying  hold  of  his  arms  with  both 
her  hands,  she  wildly  pushed  him  back. 

Her  eyes  shot  lightning;  her  lips  trembled;  a  passion- 
ate warmth  was  manifested  in  her  whole  being.  Now  she 


HENEY    VIII.   AND   HIS    COUKT. 

was  the  true  daughter  of  her  father,  inconsiderate  and  pas- 
sionate in  her  wrath,  destroying  in  her  ferocity. 

"  You  shall  not  go,"  muttered  she,  with  her  teeth 
firmly  set.  "  I  will  not  let  you  go!.  I  will  not  let  you  con- 
front me  any  longer  with  that  cold,  smiling  face.  Scold 
rne;  cast  on  me  the  bitterest  reproaches,  because  I  have 
dared  to  brave  you  so  long;  curse  me,  if  you  can!  Any- 
thing but  this  smiling  calmness.  It  kills  me;  it  pierces 
my  heart  like  a  dagger.  For  you  see  well  enough  that  I 
have  no  longer  the  power  to  withstand  you;  you  see  well 
enough  that  I  love  you.  Yes,  I  love  you  to  ecstasy  and  to 
desperation;  with  desire  and  dread.  I  love  you  as  my 
demon  and  my  angel.  I  am  angry,  because  you  have  so 
entirely  crushed  the  pride  of  my  heart.  I  curse  you,  be- 
cause you  have  made  me  so  entirely  your  slave;  and  the 
next  moment  I  fall  on  my  knees  and  beseech  God  to  for- 
give me  this  crime  against  you.  I  love  you,  I  say — not  as 
these  soft,  gentle-hearted  women  love,  with  a  smile  on  the 
lip;  but  with  madness  and  desperation,  with  jealousy  and 
wrath.  I  love  you  as  my  father  loved  Anne  Boleyn, 
whom,  in  the  hatred  of  his  love  and  the  cruel  wrath  of  his 
jealousy,  he  made  to  mount  the  scaffold,  because  he  had 
been  told  that  she  was  untrue  to  him.  Ah,  had  I  the 
power,  I  would  do  as  my  father  did;  I  would  murder  you, 
if  you  should  dare  ever  to  cease  to  love  me.  And  now, 
Thomas  Seymour,  now  say  whether  you  have  the  courage 
to  desire  to  leave  me  ?  " 

She  looked  bewitching  in  the  flaming  might  of  her 
passion;  she  was  so  young,  so  ardent;  and  Thomas  Sey- 
mour was  so  ambitious!  In  his  eyes  Elizabeth  was  not 
merely  the  beautiful,  charming  maiden,  who  loved  him: 
she  was  more  than  that:  she  was  the  daughter  of  Henry 
the  Eighth,  the  Princess  of  England,  perchance  some  day 
the  heiress  of  the  throne.  It  is  true,  her  father  had  disin- 
herited her,  and  by  act  of  Parliament  declared  her  un- 
worthy of  succeeding  to  the  throne.*  But  Henry's  vacil- 

*  Burnet,  vol.  i,  p.  138. 
14 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

luting  mind  might  change,  and  the  disowned  princess 
might  one  day  become  queen. 

The  earl  thought  of  this  as  he  gazed  on  Elizabeth — as 
he  saw  her  before  him,  so  charming,  so  young,  and 
so  glowing  with  passion.  He  thought  of  it  as  he  now 
clasped  her  in  his  arms,  and  pressed  on  her  lips  a  burning 
kiss. 

"No,  I  will  not  go,"  whispered  he.  "I  will  never 
more  depart  from  your  side,  if  you  do  not  wish  me  to  go. 
I  am  yours! — your  slave,  your  vassal;  and  I  will  never  be 
anything  else  but  this  alone.  They  may  betray  me;  your 
father  may  punish  me  for  high  treason;  yet  will  I  exult  in 
my  good  fortune,  for  Elizabeth  loves  me,  and  it  will  be 
for  Elizabeth  that  I  die!  " 

"You  shall  not  die!"  cried  she,  clinging  fast  to  him. 
"  You  shall  live,  live  at  my  side,  proud,  great,  and  happy! 
You  shall  be  my  lord  and  my  master;  and  if  I  am  ever 
queen,  and  I  feel  here  in  my  heart  that  I  must  become  so, 
1  hen  will  Thomas  Seymour  be  King  of  England." 

"  That  is  to  say,  in  the  quiet  and  secrecy  of  your  cham- 
l>er  I  should  perhaps  be  so! "  said  he  with  a  sigh.  "  But 
there  without,  before  the  world,  I  shall  still  be  ever  only 
a  servant;  and  at  the  best,  I  shall  be  called  the  favorite." 

"  Never,  never,  that  I  swear  to  you!  Said  I  not  that 
I  loved  you?" 

"  But  the  love  of  a  woman  is  so  changeable!  Who 
knows  how  long  it  will  be  before  you  will  tread  under  your 
feet  poor  Thomas  Seymour,  when  once  the  crown  has 
adorned  your  brow." 

She  looked  at  him  well-nigh  horrified.  "  Can  this  be, 
then?  Is  it  possible  that  one  can  forget  and  forsake  what 
he  once  loved?" 

"Do  you  ask,  Elizabeth?  Has  not  your  father  al- 
ready his  sixth  wife?  " 

"  It  is  true,"  said  she,  as  mournfully  she  dropped  her 
lioad  upon  her  breast.  "  But  I,"  said  she,  after  a  pause, 
"I  shall  not  be  like  my  father  in  that.  I  shall  love  you 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  203 

eternally!  And  that  you  may  have  a  guaranty  of  my 
faithfulness,  I  offer  myself  to  you  as  your  wife." 

Astonished,  he  looked  inquiringly  into  her  excited, 
glowing  face!  He  did  not  understand  her. 

But  she  continued,  passionately:  "  Yes,  you  shall  be 
my  lord  and  my  husband!  Come,  my  beloved,  come!  I 
have  not  called  you  to  take  upon  yourself  the  disgraceful 
role  of  the  secret  lover  of  a  princess — I  have  called  you  to 
be  my  husband.  I  wish  a  bond  to  unite  us  two,  that  is  so 
indissoluble  that  not  even  the  wrath  and  will  of  my  father, 
but  only  death  itself,  can  sever  it.  I  will  give  you  proof 
of  my  love  and  my  devotion;  and  you  shall  be  forced  to 
acknowledge  that  I  truly  love  you.  Come,  my  beloved, 
that  I  may  soon  hail  you  as  my  husband!  " 

He  looked  at  her  as  though  petrified.  "  Whither  will 
you  lead  me  ?  " 

"  To  the  private  chapel,"  said  she,  innocently.  "  I 
have  written  Cranmer  to  await  me  there  at  daybreak. 
Let  us  hasten,  then!" 

"Cranmer!  You  have  written  to  the  archbishop?" 
cried  Seymour,  amazed.  "How!  what  say  you?  Cran- 
mer awaits  us  in  the  private  chapel?  " 

"  Without  doubt  he  is  waiting  for  us,  as  I  have  written 
him  to  do  so." 

"  And  what  is  he  to  do?     What  do  you  want  of  him?  " 

She  looked  at  him  in  astonishment.  "  What  do  I  want 
of  him?  Why,  that  he  may  marry  us!  " 

The  earl  staggered  back  as  if  stunned.  "  And  have 
you  written  him  that  also?  " 

"Nay,  indeed,"  said  she,  with  a  charming,  childlike 
smile.  "  I  know  very  well  that  it  is  dangerous  to  trust 
such  secrets  to  paper.  I  have  only  written  him  to  come 
in  his  official  robes,  because  I  have  an  important  secret  to 
confess  to  him." 

"Oh,  God  be  praised!  We  are  not  lost,"  sighed  Sey- 
mour. 

"But  how,  I  do  not  understand  you?"    asked  she. 


204,  m:\RY  vin.  AND  HIS  COURT. 

"  You  do  not  extend  me  your  hand!  You  do  not  hasten 
to  conduct  me  to  the  chapel! " 

"  Tell  me,  I  conjure  you,  tell  me  only  this  one  thing: 
have  you  ever  spoken  to  the  archbishop  of  your — no — of 
our  love?  Have  you  ever  betrayed  to  him  BO  much  as  a 
syllable  of  that  which  stirs  our  hearts?  " 

She  blushed  deeply  beneath  the  steady  gaze  which  he 
fixed  on  her.  "  Upbraid  me,  Seymour,"  whispered  she. 
"  But  my  heart  was  weak  and  timorous;  and  as  often  as  I 
tried  to  fulfil  the  holy  duty,  and  confess  everything  hon- 
estly and  frankly  to  the  archbishop,  I  could  not  do  it! 
The  word  died  on  my  lips;  and  it  was  as  though  an  invisi- 
ble power  paralyzed  my  tongue."  ' 

"  So,  then,  Cranmer  knows  nothing?  " 

"  No,  Seymour,  he  knows  nothing  as  yet.  But  now  he 
shall  learn  all;  now  we  will  go  before  him  and  tell  him 
that  we  love  each  other,  and  constrain  him,  by  our  prayers, 
to  bless  our  union,  and  join  our  hands." 

"  Impossible! "  cried  Seymour.  "  That  can  never 
be!" 

"How!  What  do  you  say?"  asked  she  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"  I  say  that  Cranmer  will  never  be  so  insane,  nay,  so 
criminal,  as  to  fulfil  your  wish.  I  say  that  you  can  never 
be  my  wife." 

She  looked  him  full  and  square  in  the  face.  "Have 
you  not  then  told  me  that  you  loved  me? "  asked  she. 
"  Have  I  not  sworn  to  you  that  I  loved  you  in  return  ? 
Must  we  then  not  be  married,  in  order  to  sanctify  the 
union  of  our  hearts?  " 

Seymour  sank  his  eyes  to  the  ground  before  her  pure 
innocent  look,  and  blushed  for  shame.  She  did  not  under- 
stand this  blush;  because  he  was  silent,  she  deemed  him 
convinced. 

"  Come,"  said  she,  "  come;  Cranmer  is  waiting  for  us! " 

He  again  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  at  her  in  amaze- 
ment. "  Do  you  not  see,  then,  this  is  all  only  a  dream  that 


HENRY   Vin.    AND   HIS   COURT.  205 

can  never  become  reality?  Do  you  not  feel  that  this 
precious  fantasy  of  your  great  and  noble  heart  will  never 
be  realized?  How!  are  you  then  so  little  acquainted  with 
your  father  as  not  to  know  that  he  would  destroy  us  both 
if  we  should  dare  to  set  at  naught  his  paternal  and  his 
royal  authority?  Your  birth  would  not  secure  you  from 
his  destroying  fury,  for  you  well  know  he  is  unyielding 
and  reckless  in  his  wrath;  and  the  voice  of  consanguinity 
sounds  not  so  loud  in  him  that  it  would  not  be  drowned  by 
the  thunder  of  his  wrath.  Poor  child,  you  have  learned 
that  already!  Remember  with  what  cruelty  he  has  al- 
ready revenged  himself  on  you  for  the  pretended  fault  of 
your  mother;  how  he  transferred  to  you  his  wrath  against 
her.  Remember  that  he  refused  your  hand  to  the  Dau- 
phin of  France,  not  for  the  sake  of  your  happiness,  but  be- 
cause he  said  you  were  not  worthy  of  so  exalted  a  position. 
Anne  Boleyn's  bastard  could  never  become  Queen  of 
France.  And  after  such  a  proof  of  his  cruel  wrath  against 
you,  will  you  dare  cast  in  his  face  this  terrible  insult? — 
compel  him  to  recognize  a  subject,  a  servant,  as  his  son?  " 

"  Oh,  this  servant  is,  however,  the  brother  of  a  Queen 
of  England! "  said  she,  shyly.  "  My  father  loved  Jane 
Seymour  too  warmly  not  to  forgive  her  brother." 

"Ah,  ah,  you  do  not  know  your  father!  He  has  no 
heart  for  the  past;  or,  if  he  has,  it  is  only  to  take  ven- 
geance for  an  injury  or  a  fault,  but  not  to  reward  love. 
King  Henry  would  be  capable  of  sentencing  Anne  Boleyn's 
daughter  to  death,  and  of  sending  to  the  block  and  rack 
Catharine  Howard's  brothers,  because  these  two  queens 
once  grieved  him  and  wounded  his  heart;  but  he  would 
not  forgive  me  the  least  offence  on  account  of  my  being 
the  brother  of  a  queen  who  loved  him  faithfully  and  ten- 
derly till  her  death.  But  I  speak  not  of  myself.  I  am  a 
warrior,  and  have  too  often  looked  death  in  the  face  to 
fear  him  now.  I  speak  only  of  you,  Elizabeth.  You  have 
no  right  to  perish  thus.  This  noble  head  must  not  be 
laid  upon  the  block.  It  is  destined  to  wear  a  royal  crown. 


200  lir.XTlY    VTTT.    AND    HTS    COURT. 

A  fortune  still  higher  than  love  awaits  you — fame  and 
power!  1  must  not  draw  you  away  from  this  proud  future. 
The  Princess  Elizabeth,  though  abused  and  disowned,  may 
yet  one  day  mount  the  throne  of  England.  The  Count- 
ess Seymour  never!  she  disinherits  herself!  Follow, 
then,  your  high  destiny.  Earl  Seymour  retires  before  a 
throne." 

"That  is  to  say,  you  disdained  me?"  asked  she,  an- 
grily stamping  the  floor  with  her  foot.  "  That  is  to  say, 
the  proud  Earl  Seymour  holds  the  bastard  too  base  for  his 
coronet!  That  is  to  say,  you  love  me  not! " 

"  No,  it  means  that  I  love  you  more  than  myself — bet- 
ter and  more  purely  than  any  other  man  can  love  you;  for 
this  love  is  so  great  that  it  makes  my  selfishness  and  my 
ambition  silent,  and  allows  me  to  think  only  of  you  and 
your  future." 

"  Ah,"  sighed  she,  mournfully,  "  if  you  really  loved 
me,  you  would  not  consider — you  would  not  see  the  dan- 
ger, nor  fear  death.  You  would  think  of  nothing,  and 
know  nothing,  save  love." 

"  Because  I  think  of  love,  I  think  of  you,"  said  Sey- 
mour. "  I  think  that  you  are  to  move  along  over  the 
world,  great,  powerful,  and  glorious,  and  that  I  will  lend 
you  my  arm  for  this.  I  think  of  this,  that  my  queen  of 
the  future  needs  a  general  who  will  win  victories  for  her, 
and  that  I  will  be  that  general.  But  when  this  goal  is 
reached — when  you  are  queen — then  you  have  the  power 
from  one  of  your  subjects  to  make  a  husband;  then  it 
rests  with  your  own  will  to  elevate  me  to  be  the  proudest, 
the  happiest,  and  the  most  enviable  of  all  men.  Extend 
me  your  hand,  then,  and  I  will  thank  and  praise  God  that 
he  is  so  gracious  to  me;  and  my  whole  existence  will  be 
spent  in  the  effort  to  give  you  the  happiness  that  you  are 
so  well  entitled  to  demand." 

"And  until  then?"  asked  she,  mournfully. 

"Until  then,  wo  will  lie  constant,  and  love  each  oth- 
er! "  cried  he,  as  he  gently  pressed  her  in  his  arms. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  207 

She  gently  repelled  him.  "  Will  you  also  be  true  to 
me  till  then?" 

"True  till  death!" 

"  They  have  told  me  that  you  would  marry  the  Duch- 
ess of  Richmond,  in  order  thereby  to  at  length  put  an  end 
to  the  ancient  hatred  between  the  Howards  and  Sey- 
mours." 

Thomas  Seymour  frowned,  and  his  countenance  grew 
dark.  "  Believe  me,  this  hatred  is  invincible,"  said  he; 
"  and  no  matrimonial  alliance  could  wash  it  away.  It  is 
an  inheritance  from  many  years  in  our  families;  and  I 
am  firmly  resolved  not  to  renounce  my  inheritance.  I 
shall  just  as  little  inarry  the  Duchess  of  Richmond,  as 
Henry  Howard  will  my  sister,  the  Countess  of  Shrews- 
bury." 

"  Swear  that  to  me !  Swear  to  me,  that  you  say  the 
truth,  and  that  this  haughty  and  coquettish  duchess  shall 
never  be  your  wife.  Swear  it  to  me,  by  all  that  is  sacred 
to  you! " 

"  I  swear  it  by  my  love !  "  exclaimed  Thomas  Seymour, 
solemnly. 

"  I  shall  then  at  least  have  one  sorrow  the  less,"  sighed 
Elizabeth.  "  I  shall  have  no  occasion  to  be  jealous.  And 
is  it  not  true,"  she  then  said,  "  is  it  not  true  we  shall  often 
see  each  other?  We  will  both  keep  this  secret  of  this 
tower  faithfully  and  sacredly;  and  after  days  full  of  priva- 
tion and  disappointment,  we  will  here  keep  festival  the 
nights  full  of  blissful  pleasure  and  sweet  transport.  But 
why  do  you  smile,  Seymour?  " 

"  I  smile,  because  you  are  pure  and  innocent  as  an 
angel,"  said  he,  as  he  reverently  kissed  her  hand.  "  I 
smile,  because  you  are  an  exalted,  godlike  child,  whom  one 
ought  to  adore  upon  his  knees,  and  to  whom  one  ought  to 
pray,  as  to  the  chaste  goddess  Vesta!  Yes,  my  dear,  be- 
loved child,  here  we  will,  as  you  say,  pass  nights  full  of 
blissful  pleasure;  and  may  I  be  reprobate  and  damned,  if 
I  should  ever  be  capable  of  betraying  this  sweet,  guileless 


208  JlK.M^     Mil.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

confidence  with  which  you  favor  me,  and  sully  your  angel 
purity! " 

"  Ah,  we  will  be  very  happy,  Seymour! "  said  she, 
smiling.  "  I  lack  only  one  thing — a  friend,  to  whom  I 
can  tell  my  happiness,  to  whom  I  can  speak  of  you.  Oh,  it 
ofte'n  seems  to  me  as  if  this  love,  which  must  always  be 
concealed,  always  shut  up,  must  at  last  burst  my  breast;  as 
if  this  secret  must  with  violence  break  a  passage,  and  roar 
like  a  tempest  over  the  whole  world.  Seymour,  I  want  a 
confidante  of  my  happiness  and  my  love." 

"  Guard  yourself  well  against  desiring  to  seek  such  a 
one! "  exclaimed  Seymour,  anxiously.  "  A  secret  that 
three  know,  is  a  secret  no  more;  and  one  day  your  confi- 
dante will  betray  us." 

"  Not  so;  I  know  a  woman  who  would  be  incapable  of 
that — a  woman  who  loves  me  well  enough  to  keep  my 
secret  as  faithfully  as  I  myself;  a  woman  who  could  be 
more  than  merely  a  confidante,  who  could  be  the  pro- 
tectress of  our  love.  Oh,  believe  me,  if  we  could  gain  hef 
to  our  side,  then  our  future  would  be  a  happy  and  a  blessed 
one,  and  we  might  easily  succeed  in  obtaining  the  king's 
consent  to  our  marriage." 

"  And  who  is  this  woman?  " 

"  It  is  the  queen." 

"The  queen!"  cried  Thomas  Seymour,  with  such  an 
expression  of  horror  that  Elizabeth  trembled;  "  the  queen 
your  confidante?  But  that  is  impossible!  That  would 
be  plunging  us  both  inevitably  into  ruin.  Unhappy  child, 
be  very  careful  not  to  mention  even  a  single  word,  a  sylla- 
ble of  your  relation  to  me.  Be  very  careful  not  to  betray 
to  her,  even  by  the  slightest  intimation,  that  Thomas  Sey- 
mour is  not  indifferent  to  you!  Ah,  her  wrath  would  dash 
to  pieces  you  and  me! " 

"And  why  do  you  believe  that?"  asked  Elizabeth, 
gloomily.  "  Why  do  you  suppose  that  Catharine  would  fly 
into  a  passion  because  Earl  Seymour  loves  me?  Or  how? 
— it  is  she,  perhaps,  that  you  love,  and  you  dare  not  there- 


HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  209 

fore  let  her  know  that  you  have  sworn  your  love  to  me 
also?  Ah,  I  now  see  through  it  all;  I  understand  it  all! 
You  love  the  queen — her  only.  For  that  reason  you  will 
not  go  to  the  chapel  with  me;  for  that  reason  you  swore 
that  you  would  not  marry  the  Duchess  of  Eichmond;  and 
therefore — oh,  my  presentiment  did  not  deceive  me — 
therefore  that  furious  ride  in  Epping  Forest  to-day.  Ah, 
the  queen's  horse  must  of  course  become  raving,  and  run 
away,  that  his  lordship,  the  master  of  horse,  might  follow 
his  lady,  and  with  her  get  lost  in  the  thicket  of  the  woods! 
— And  now,"  said  she,  her  eyes  flashing  with  anger,  and 
raising  her  hand  to  heaven  as  if  taking  an  oath,  "  now  I 
say  to  you:  Take  heed  to  yourself!  Take  heed  to  your- 
self, Seymour,  that  you  do  not,  even  by  a  single  word  or  a 
single  syllable,  betray  your  secret,  for  that  word  would 
crush  you!  Yes,  I  feel  it,  that  I  am  no  bastard,  that  I  am 
my  father's  own  daughter;  I  feel  it  in  this  wrath  and  this 
jealousy  that  rages  within  me!  Take  heed  to  yourself, 
Seymour,  for  I  will  go  hence  and  accuse  you  to  the  king, 
and  the  traitor's  head  will  fall  upon  the  scaffold!  " 

She  was  beside  herself.  With  clenched  fists  and  a 
threatening  air  she  paced  the  room  up  and  down.  Tears 
gushed  from  her  eyes;  but  she  shook  them  out  of  her  eye- 
lashes, so  that  they  fell  scattering  about  her  like  pearls. 
Her  father's  impetuous  and  untractable  nature  stirred 
within  her,  and  his  blood  seethed  in  her  veins. 

But  Thomas  Seymour  had  already  regained  his  self- 
command  and  composure.  He  approached  the  princess 
and  despite  her  struggles  clasped  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Little  fool!  "  said  he,  between  his  kisses.  "  Sweet, 
dear  fool,  how  beautiful  you  are  in  your  anger,  and  how 
I  love  you  for  it!  Jealousy  is  becoming  to  love;  and  I  do 
not  complain,  though  you  are  unjust  and  cruel  toward  me. 
The  queen  has  much  too  cold  and  proud  a  heart  ever  to  be 
loved  by  any  man.  Ah,  only  to  think  this  is  already 
treason  to  her  virtue  and  modesty;  and  surely  she  has  not 
deserved  this  from  us  two,  that  we  should  disdain  and 


210  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

insult  her.  She  is  the  first  that  has  always  been  just  to 
you;  and  to  me  she  has  ever  been  only  a  gracious  mis- 
tress! " 

"It  is  true,"  murmured  Elizabeth,  completely  ashamed; 
"  she  is  a  true  friend  and  mother;  and  I  have  her  to 
thank  for  my  present  position  at  this  court." 

Then,  after  a  pause,  she  said,  smiling,  and  extending 
her  hand  to  the  earl:  "You  are  right.  It  would  be  a 
crime  to  suspect  her;  and  I  am  a  fool.  Forgive  me,  Sey- 
mour, forgive  my  absurd  and  childish  anger;  and  I  prom- 
ise you  in  return  to  betray  our  secret  to  no  one,  not  even 
to  the  queen." 

"  Do  you  swear  that  to  me?  " 

"  I  swear  it  to  you!  and  I  swear  to  you  more  than  that: 
I  will  never  again  be  jealous  of  her." 

"  Then  you  do  but  simple  justice  to  yourself  and  to  the 
queen  also,"  said  the  earl,  with  a  smile,  as  he  drew  her 
again  to  his  arms. 

But  she  pushed  him  gently  back.  "  I  must  now  away. 
The  morning  dawns,  and  the  archbishop  awaits  me  in 
the  royal  chapel." 

"  And  what  will  you  say  to  him,  beloved?  " 

"  I  will  make  my  confession  to  him." 

"  How!  so  you  will  then  betray  our  love  to  him?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  she,  with  a  bewitching  smile,  "  that  is  a  se- 
cret between  us  and  God;  and  only  to  Him  alone  can  we 
confess  it;  because  He  alone  can  absolve  us  from  it.  Fare- 
well, then,  Seymour,  farewell,  and  think  of  me  till  we  see 
each  other  again!  But  when — say,  when  shall  we  meet 
again?  " 

"  When  there  is  a  night  like  this  one,  beloved,  when 
the  moon  is  not  in  the  heavens." 

"  Oh,  then  I  could  wish  there  were  a  change  of  the 
moon  every  week,''  ssiid  she,  with  the  charming  innocence 
of  a  child.  "  Farewell,  Seymour,  farewell;  we  must  part." 

She  clung  to  his  tall,  sturdy  form  as  the  ivy  twines 
around  the  trunk  of  nn  onk.  Then  they  parted.  The 


HENRY   VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  211 

princess  slipped  again  softly  and  unseen  into  her  apart- 
ments, and  thence  into  the  royal  chapel;  the  earl  descend- 
ed again  the  spiral  staircase  which  led  to  the  secret  door 
of  the  garden. 

Unobserved  and  unseen  he  returned  to  his  palace;  even 
his  valet,  who  slept  in  the  anteroom,  did  not  see  him,  as 
the  earl  crept  past  him  lightly  on  his  toes,  and  betook  him- 
self to  his  sleeping-room. 

But  no  sleep  came  to  his  eyes  that  night,  and  his  soul 
was  restless  and  full  of  fierce  torment.  He  was  angry  with 
himself,  and  accused  himself  of  treachery  and  perfidy; 
and  then  again,  full  of  proud  haughtiness,  he  still  tried  to 
excuse  himself  and  to  silence  his  conscience,  which  was 
sitting  in  judgment  on  him. 

"  I  love  her — her  only!  "  said  he  to  himself.  "  Catha- 
rine possesses  my  heart,  my  soul;  I  am  ready  to  devote  my 
whole  life  to  her.  Yes,  I  love  her!  I  have  this  day  so 
sworn  to  her;  and  she  is  mine  for  all  eternity!  " 

"And  Elizabeth?"  asked  his  conscience.  "Have  you 
not  sworn  truth  and  love  to  her  also?  " 

"  No! "  said  he.  "  I  have  only  received  her  oath;  I 
have  not  given  her  mine  in  return.  And  when  I  vowed 
never  to  marry  the  Duchess  of  Richmond;  when  I  swore 
this  'by  my  love/  then  I  thought  only  of  Catharine — 
of  that  proud,  beautiful,  charming  woman,  at  once 
maidenly  and  voluptuous;  but  not  of  this  young,  in- 
experienced, wild  child — of  this  unattractive  little  prin- 
cess! " 

"  But  the  princess  may  one  day  become  a  queen,"  whis- 
pered his  ambition. 

"  That,  however,  is  very  doubtful,"  replied  he  to  him- 
self. "  But  it  is  certain  that  Catharine  will  one  day  be 
the  regent,  and  if  I  am  at  that  time  her  husband,  then  I 
am  Regent  of  England." 

This  was  the  secret  of  his  duplicity  and  his  double 
treachery.  Thomas  Seymour  loved  nothing  but  himself, 
nothing  but  his  ambition.  He  was  capable  of  risking  his 


212  HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

life  for  a  woman;  but  for  renown  and  greatness  he  would 
have  gladly  sacrificed  this  woman. 

For  him  there  was  only  one  aim,  one  struggle:  to  be- 
come great  and  powerful  above  all  the  nobles  of  the  king- 
dom— to  be  the  first  man  in  England.  And  to  reach  this 
aim,  he  would  be  afraid  of  no  means;  he  would  shrink 
from  no  treachery  and  no  sin. 

Like  the  disciples  of  Loyola,  he  said,  in  justification  of 
himself,  "  the  end  sanctifies  the  means." 

And  thus  for  him  every  means  was  right  which  con- 
ducted him  to  the  end;  that  is  to  say,  to  greatness  and 
glory. 

He  was  firmly  convinced  that  he  loved  the  queen  ar- 
dently; and  in  his  nobler  hours  he  did  really  love  her.  De- 
pending on  the  moment,  a  son  of  the  hour,  in  him  feeling 
and  will  varied  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning,  and  he  ever 
was  wholly  and  completely  that  with  which  the  moment 
inflamed  him. 

When,  therefore,  he  stood  before  the  queen,  he  did  not 
lie  when  he  swore  that  he  loved  her  passionately.  He 
really  loved  her,  with  double  warmth,  since  she  had  to  his 
mind  in  some  sort  identified  herself  with  his  ambition. 
He  adored  her,  because  she  was  the  means  that  might  con- 
duct him  to  his  end;  because  she  might  some  day  hold  in 
her  hands  the  sceptre  of  England.  And  on  the  day  when 
this  came  to  pass,  he  wished  to  be  her  lover  and  her  lord. 
She  had  accepted  him  as  her  lord,  and  he  was  entirely  cer- 
tain of  his  future  sway. 

Consequently  he  loved  the  queen,  but  his  proud  and 
ambitious  heart  could  never  be  so  completely  animated  by 
one  love  as  that  there  should  not  be  room  in  it  for  a  second, 
provided  this  second  love  presented  him  a  favorable  chance 
for  the  attainment  of  the  aim  of  his  life. 

Princess  Elizabeth  had  this  chance.  And  if  the  queen 
would  certainly  become  one  day  Regent  of  England,  yet 
Elizabeth  might  some  day  perchance  become  queen  there- 
of. Of  course,  it  was  as  yet  only  a  perhaps,  but  one 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  213 

might  manage  out  of  this  perhaps  to  make  a  reality.  Be- 
sides, this  young,  passionate  child  loved  him,  and  Thomas 
Seymour  was  himself  too  young  and  too  easily  excitable  to 
be  able  to  despise  a  love  that  presented  him  with  such  en- 
ticing promtees  and  bright  dreams  of  the  future. 

"  It  does  not  become  a  man  to  live  for  love  alone/'  said 
he  to  himself  as  he  now  thought  over  the  events  of  the 
night.  "  He  must  struggle  for  the  highest  and  wish  to 
reach  the  greatest,  and  no  means  of  attaining  this  end 
ough  he  to  leave  unemployed.  Besides,  my  heart  is  large 
enough  to  satisfy  a  twofold  love.  I  love  them  both — both 
of  these  fair  women  who  fetch  me  a  crown.  Let  fate  de- 
cide to  which  of  the  two  I  shall  one  day  belong!  " 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

HENRY   HOWARD,   EARL   OP   SURREY. 

THE  great  court  festival,  so  long  expected,  was  at  last 
to  take  place  to-day.  Knights  and  lords  were  preparing 
fo>  the  tournament;  poet«  acd  scholars  for  the  feast  of  I  the 
poets.  For  the  witty  and  brave  king  wished  to  unite  the 
two  in  this  festival  to-day,  in  order  to  give  the  world  a  rare 
and  great  example  of  a  iking  who  bould  claim  all  virtue 
and  wisdom  as  his  own;  who  could  be  equally  great  as  a 
hero  and  as  a  divine;  equally  great  as  a  poet  and  as  a  phi- 
losopher and  a  scholar. 

The  knights  were  to  fight  for  the  honor  of  their  ladies; 
the  poets  were  to  sing  their  songs,  and  John  Heywood  to 
bring  out  his  merry  farces.  Ay,  even  the  great  scholars 
were  to  have  a  part  in  this  festival;  for  the  king  had  spe- 
cially, for  this,  summoned  to  London  from  Cambridge, 
where  he  was  then  professor  in  the  university,  his  former 
teacher  in  the  Greek  language,  the  great  scholar  Croke,  to 


214  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

whom  belonged  the  merit  of  having  first  made  the  learned 
world  of  Germany,  as  well  as  of  England,  again  acquainted 
with  the  poets  of  Greece.*  He  wished  to  recite  with  Croke 
some  scenes  from  Sophocles  to  his  wondering  court;  and 
though,  to  be  sure,  there  was  no  one  there  who  understood 
the  Greek  tongue,  yet  all,  without  doubt,  must  be  enrap- 
tured with  the  wonderful  music  of  the  Greek  and  the 
amazing  erudition  of  the  king. 

Preparations  were  going  on  everywhere;  arrangements 
were  being  made;  every  one  was  making  his  toilet,  whether 
it  were  the  toilet  of  the  mind  or  of  the  body. 

Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey,  made  his  also;  that  is 
to  say,  he  had  retired  to  his  cabinet,  and  was  busy  filing 
away  at  the  sonnets  which  he  expected  to  recite  to-day, 
and  in  which  he  lauded  the  beauty  and  the  grace  of  the 
fair  Geraldine. 

He  had  the  paper  in  his  hand,  and  was  lying  on  the  vel- 
vet ottoman  which  stood  before  his  writing-table. 

Had  Lady  Jane  Douglas  seen  him  now,  she  would  have 
been  filled  with  painful  rapture  to  observe  how,  with  head 
leaned  back  on  the  cushion,  his  large  blue  eyes  raised 
dreamily  to  heaven,  he  smiled  and  whispered  gentle 
words. 

He  was  wholly  absorbed  in  sweet  reminiscences;  he  was 
thinking  of  those  rapturous,  blessed  hours  which  he  a  few 
days  before  had  spent  with  his  Geraldine;  and  as  he 
thought  of  them  he  adored  her,  and  repeated  to  her  anew 
in  his  mind-his  oath  of  eternal  love  and  inviolable  truth. 

His  enthusiastic  spirit  was  completely  filled  with  a 
sweet  melancholy;  and  he  felt  perfectly  intoxicated  by  the 
magical  happiness  afforded  him  by  his  Geraldine. 

She  was  his — his  at  last!     After  struggles  so  long  and 
painful,  after  such  bitter  renunciation,  and  such  mournful 
resignation,  happiness  had  at  last  arisen  for  him;  the 
never  expected  had  at  last  become  indeed  a  reality.     Cat  li 
urine  loved  him.     With  a  sacred  oath  she  had  sworn  to 

*Tvtli-r,  p.  207. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS   COURT.  215 

him  that  she  would  one  day  become  his  wife;  that  she 
would  become  his  wife  before  God  and  man. 

But  when  is  the  day  to  come  on  which  he  may  show 
her  to  the  world  as  his  consort?  When  will  she  be  at 
length  relieved  from  the  burden  of  her  royal  crown? 
When  at  length  will  fall  from  her  those  golden  chains 
that  bind  her  to  a  tyrannical  and  bloodthirsty  husband — 
to  the  cruel  and  arrogant  king?  When  will  Catharine  at 
length  cease  to  be  queen,  in  order  to  become  Lady  Surrey? 

Strange!  As  he  asked  himself  this,  there  ran  over 
him  a  shudder,  and  an  unaccountable  dread  fell  upon  his 
soul. 

It  seemed  to  him  as  if  a  voice  whispered  to  him: 
"  Thou  wilt  never  live  to  see  that  day !  The  king,  old  as 
he  is,  will  nevertheless  live  longer  than  thou!  Prepare 
thyself  to  die,  for  death  is  already  at  thy  door!  " 

And  it  was  not  the  first  time  that  he  had  heard  that 
voice.  Often  before  it  had  spoken  to  him,  and  always 
with  the  same  words,  the  same  warning.  Often  it  seemed 
to  him  in  his  dreams  as  if  he  felt  a  cutting  pain  about  the 
neck;  and  he  had  seen  a  scaffold,  from  which  his  own  head 
was  rolling  down. 

Henry  Howard  was  superstitious;  for  he  was  a  poet, 
and  to  poets  it  is  given  to  perceive  the  mysterious  con- 
nection between  the  visible  and  the  invisible  world;  to  be- 
lieve that  supernatural  powers  and  invisible  forms  sur- 
round man,  and  either  protect  him  or  else  curs^  him. 

There  were  hours  in  which  he  believed  in  the  reality  of 
his  dreams — in  which  he  did  not  doubt  of  that  melancholy 
and  horrible  fate  which  they  foretold. 

Formerly  he  had  given  himself  up  to  it  with  smiling 
resignation;  but  now — since  he  loved  Catharine,  since  she 
belonged  to  him — now  he  would  not  die.  Now,  when  life 
held  out  to  him  its  most  enchanting  enjoyments,  its  intoxi- 
cating delights — now  he  would  not  leave  them — now  he 
dreaded  to  die.  He  was  therefore  cautious  and  prudent; 
and,  knowing  the  king's  malicious,  savage,  and  jealous 


216  HEXRY   Vm.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

character,  he  had  always  been  extremely  careful  to  avoid 
everything  that  might  excite  him,  that  might  arouse  the 
royal  hyena  from  his  slumbers. 

But  it  seemed  to  him  as  though  the  king  bore  him  and 
his  family  a  special  spite;  as  though  he  could  never  forgive 
them  that  the  consort  whom  he  most  loved,  and  who  had 
the  most  bitterly  wronged  him,  had  sprung  from  their 
stock.  In  the  king's  every  word  and  every  look,  Henry 
Howard  felt  and  was  sensible  of  this  secret  resentment  of 
the  king;  he  suspected  that  Henry  was  only  watching  for 
the  favorable  moment  when  he  could  seize  and  strangle 
him. 

He  was  therefore  on  his  guard.  For  now,  when  Geral- 
dine  loved  him,  his  life  belonged  no  longer  to  himself 
alone:  she  loved  him;  she  had  a  claim  on  him;  his  days 
were,  therefore,  hallowed  in  his  own  eyes. 

So  he  had  kept  silence  under  the  petty  annoyances 
and  vexations  of  the  king.  He  had  taken  it  even  without 
murmuring,  and  without  demanding  satisfaction,  when 
the  king  had  suddenly  recalled  him  from  the  army  tliat 
was  fighting  against  France,  and  of  which  he  was  com- 
mander-in-chief,  and  in  his  stead  had  sent  Lord  Hertford, 
Earl  of  Sudley,  to  the  army  which  was  encamped  before 
Boulogne  and  Montreuil.  He  had  quietly  and  without 
resentment  returned  to  his  palace;  and  since  he  could 
no  longer  be  a  general  and  warrior,  he  became  again 
a  scholar  agd  poet.  His  palace  was  now  again  the  resort 
of  the  scholars  and  writers  of  England;  and  he  was  always 
ready,  with  true  princely  munificence,  to  assist  oppressed 
and  despised  talent;  to  afford  the  persecuted  scholar  an 
asylum  in  his  palace.  He  it  was  who  ?;iv<-<l  ihe  learned 
Fox  from  starvation,  and  took  him  into  his  house,  where 
Horatins  Junius  and  the  poet  Churchyard,  afterward  so 
celebrated,  had  bntli  found  a  home — the  former  as  his 
physician  and  the  latter  as  his  page.* 

Love,  the  arts,  and  the  sciences,  caused  the  wouu-1- 

•  Nott's  Life  of  the  Ear!  of  Surrey. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COUKT. 

that  the  king  had  given  his  ambition,  to  heal  over;  and  he 
now  felt  no  more  rancor;  now  he  almost  thanked  the  king. 
For  to  his  recall  only  did  he  owe  his  good  fortune;  and 
Henry,  who  had  wished  to  injure  him,  had  given  him  his 
sweetest  pleasure. 

He  now  smiled  as  he  thought  how  Henry,  who  had 
taken  from  him  the  baton,  had,  without  knowing  it,  given 
him  in  return  his  own  queen,  and  had  exalted  him  when 
he  wished  to  humble  him. 

He  smiled,  and  again  took  in  hand  the  poem  in  which 
he  wished  to  celebrate  in  song,  at  the  court  festival  that 
day,  the  honor  and  praise  of  his  lady-love,  whom  no  one 
knew,  or  even  suspected — the  fair  Geraldine. 

"  The  verses  are  stiff,"  muttered  he;  "  this  language 
is  so  poor!  It  has  not  the  power  of  expressing  all  that 
fulness  of  adoration  and  ecstasy  which  I  feel.  Petrarch 
was  more  fortunate  in  this  respect.  His  beautiful,  flexi- 
ble language  sounds  like  music,  and  it  is,  even  just  by 
itself,  the  harmonious  accompaniment  of  his  love.  Ah, 
Petrarch,  I  envy  thee,  and  yet  would  not  be  like  thee. 
For  thine  was  a  mournful  and  bitter-sweet  lot.  Laura 
never  loved  thee;  and  she  was  the  mother  of  twelve  chil- 
dren, not  a  single  one  of  whom  belonged  to  thee." 

He  laughed  with  a  sense  of  h'is  own  proud  success  in 
love,  and  seized  Petrarch's  sonnets,  which  lay  near  him  on 
the  table,  to  compare  his  own  new  sonnet  with  a  similar 
one  of  Petrarch's. 

He  was  so  absorbed  in  these  meditations',  that  he  had 
not  at  all  observed  that  the  hanging  which  concealed  the 
door  behind  him  was  pushed  aside,  and  a  marvellous  young 
woman,  resplendent  with  diamonds  and  sparkling  with 
jewelry,  entered  his  cabinet. 

For  an  instant  she  stood  still  upon  the  threshold,  and 
with  a  smile  observed  the  earl,  who  was  more  and  more 
absorbed  in  his  reading. 

She  was  of  imposing  beauty;  her  large  eyes  blazed  and 
glowed  like  a  volcano;  her  lofty  brow  seemed  in  all  re- 
15 


HKMlY    VI IT.    AXD   HIS   COURT. 

spects  designed  to  wear  a  crown.  And,  indeed,  it  w;is  a 
ducal  coronet  that  sparkled  on  her  Mark  hair,  which  in 
long  ringlets  curled  down,  to  her  full,  voluptuous  shoulders. 
Her  tall  and  majestic  form  was  clad  in  a  white  satin  dress, 
richly  trimmed  with  ermine  and  pearls;  two  clasps  of  cost- 
ly brilliants  held  fast  to  her  shoulders  the  small  mantilla 
of  crimson  velvet,  faced  with  ermine,  which  covered  her 
back  and  fell  down  to  her  waist. 

Thus  appeared  the  Duchess  of  Richmond,  the  widow  of 
King  Henry's  natural  son,  Henry  Richmond;  the  sister 
of  Lord  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey;  and  the  daughter 
of  the  noble  Duke  of  Norfolk. 

Since  her  husband  had  died  and  left  her  a  widow  at 
twenty,  she  resided  in  her  brother's  palace,  and  had 
placed  herself  under  his  protection,  and  in  the  world  they 
were  known  as  "  the  affectionate  brother  and  sister." 

Ah,  how  little  knew  the  world,  which  is  ever  wont  to 
judge  from  appearances,  of  the  hatred  and  the  love  of 
these  two;  how  little  suspicion  had  it  of  the  real  senti- 
ments of  this  brother  and  sister! 

Henry  Howard  had  offered  his  sister  his  palace  as  her 
residence,  because  he  hoped  by  his  presence  to  lay  on  her 
impulsive  and  voluptuous  disposition  a  restraint  which 
should  compel  her  not  to  overstep  the  bounds  of  custom 
and  decency.  Lady  Richmond  had  accepted  this  offer  of 
his  palace  because  she  was  obliged  to;  inasmuch  as  the 
avaracious  and  parsimonious  king  gave  his  son's  widow 
only  a  meagre  income,  and  her  own  means  she  had  squan- 
dered and  lavishly  thrown  away  upon  her  lovers. 

Henry  Howard  had  thus  acted  for  the  honor  of  his 
name;  but  he  loved  not  his  sister;  nay,  he  despised  her. 
But  the  Duchess  of  Richmond  hated  her  brother,  because 
her  proud  heart  felt  humbled  by  him,  and  under  obliga- 
tions of  gratitude. 

But  their  hatred  and  their  contempt  were  a  secret 
that  they  both  preserved  in  the  depths  of  the  heart,  and 
which  they  scarcely  dared  confess  to  themselves.  Both 


HENKY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  219 

had  veiled  this  their  inmost  feeling  with  a  show  of  affec- 
tion, and  only  once  in  a  while  was  one  betrayed  to  the 
other  by  some  lightly  dropped  word  or  unregarded  look. 


CHAPTEK   XXIII. 

BROTHER   AND    SISTER. 

LIGHTLY  on  the  tips  of  her  toes  the  duchess  stole 
toward  her  brother,  who  did  not  yet  observe  her.  The 
thick  Turkish  carpet  made  her  steps  inaudible.  She  al- 
ready stood  behind  the  earl,  and  he  had  not  yet  noticed 
her. 

Now  she  bent  over  his  shoulder,  and  fastened  her 
sparkling  eyes  on  the  paper  in  her  brother's  hand. 

Then  she  read  in  a  loud,  sonorous  voice  the  title  of  it: 
"  Complaint,  because  Geraldine  never  shows  herself  to  her 
lover  unless  covered  by  her  veil."  *  "  Ah,"  said  the  duch- 
ess, laughing,  "  now,  then,  I  have  spied  out  your  secret, 
and  you  must  surrender  to  me  at  discretion.  So  you  are  in 
love;  and  Geraldine  is  the  name  of  the  chosen  one  to 
whom  you  address  your  poems!  I  swear  to  you,  my  broth- 
er, you  will  repay  me  dear  for  this  secret." 

"  It  is  no  secret  at  all,  sister,"  said  the  earl,  with  a 
quiet  smile,  as  he  rose  from  the  divan  and  saluted  the 
duchess.  "  It  is  so  little  a  secret,  that  I  shall  recite  this 
sonnet  at  the  court  festival  this  very  evening.  I  shall  not, 
therefore,  need  your  secrecy,  Rosabella." 

"  So  the  fair  Geraldine  never  shows  herself  to  you  un- 
less in  a  dark  veil,  black  as  the  night,"  said  the  duchess, 
musingly.  "  But  tell  me,  brother,  who  then  is  the  fair 
Geraldine?  Of  the  ladies  at  court,  I  know  not  a  single 
one  who  bears  that  name." 

*  Sonnet  by  Surrey. — See  Nott's  Life  and  Works  of  Surrey. 


220  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS   COURT. 

"  So  you  see  from  that,  the  whole  is  only  a  fiction — a 
creation  of  my  fancy." 

"No,  indeed,"  said  she,  smiling;  "one  does  not  write 
with  such  warmth  and  enthusiasm  unless  he  is  really  in 
love.  You  sing  your  lady-love,  and  you  give  her  another 
name.  That  is  very  plain.  Do  not  deny  it,  Henry,  for  I 
know  indeed  that  you  have  a  lady-love.  It  may  be  read 
in  your  eyes.  And  look  you!  it  is  on  account  of  this  dear 
one  that  I  have  come  to  you.  It  pains  me,  Henry,  that 
you  have  no  confidence  in  me,  and  allow  me  no  share  in 
your  joys  and  sorrows.  Do  you  not  know,  then,  how  ten- 
derly I  love  you,  my  dear,  noble  brother?  " 

She  put  her  arm  tenderly  round  his  neck,  and  wanted 
to  kiss  him.  He  bent  his  head  back,  and  laying  his  hand 
on  her  rosy,  round  chin,  he  looked  inquiringly  and  smil- 
ingly into  her  eyes. 

"You  want  something  of  me,  Rosabella!"  said  he. 
"  I  have  never  yet  enjoyed  your  tenderness  and  sisterly 
affection,  except  when  you  needed  my  services." 

"  How  suspicious  you  are!  "  cried  she,  with  a  charming 
pout,  as  she  shook  his  hand  away  from  her  face.  "  I  have 
come  from  wholly  disinterested  sympathy;  partly  to  warn 
you,  partly  to  find  out  whether  your  love  is  perchance 
fixed  upon  a  lady  that  would  render  my  warning  useless." 

"  Well,  so  you  see,  Rosabella,  that  I  was  right,  and  that 
your  tenderness  was  not  aimless.  Now,  then,  you  want 
to  warn  me?  I  have  yet  to  learn  that  I  need  any  warn- 
ing." 

"Nay,  brother!  For  it  would  certainly  be  very  dan- 
gerous and  mischievous  for  you,  if  your  love  should  chance 
not  to  be  in  accordance  with  the  command  of  the  king." 

A  momentary  flush  spread  over  Henry  Howard's  face, 
and  his  brow  darkened. 

"  With  the  king's  command?  "  asked  he,  in  astonish- 
ment. "I  did  not  know  that  Henry  the  Eighth  could 
control  my  heart.  And,  at  any  rate,  I  would  never  con- 
cede him  that  right.  Say  quickly,  then,  sister,  what  is  it? 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  221 

What  means  this  about  the  king's  command,  and  what 
matrimonial  scheme  have  you  women  been  again  contriv- 
ing? For  I  well  know  that  you  and  my  mother  have  no 
rest  with  the  thought  of  seeing  me  still  unmarried.  You 
want  to  bestow  on  me,  whether  or  no,  the  happiness  of 
marriage;  yet,  nevertheless,  it  appears  to  me  that  you 
both  have  sufficiently  learned  from  experience  that  this 
happiness  is  only  imaginary,  and  that  marriage  in  reality 
ie,  at  the  very  least,  the  vestibule  of  hell." 

"  It  is  true/'  laughed  the  duchess;  "  the  only  happy 
moment  of  my  married  life  was  when  my  husband  died. 
For  in  that  I  am  more  fortunate  than  my  mother,  who 
has  her  tyrant  still  living  about  her.  Ah,  how  I  pity  my 
mother! " 

"  Dare  not  to  revile  our  noble  father! "  cried  the  earl, 
almost  threateningly.  "  God  alone  knows  how  much  he  has 
suffered  from  our  mother,  and  how  much  he  still  suffers. 
He  is  not  to  blame  for  this  unhappy  marriage.  But  you 
have  not  come  to  talk  over  these  sad  and  disgraceful  family 
matters,  sister!  You  wish  to  warn  me,  did  you  say?  " 

"Yes,  warn  you!"  said  the  duchess,  tenderly,  as  she 
took  her  brother's  hand  and  led  him  to  the  ottoman. 
"  Come,  let  us  sit  down  here,  Henry,  and  let  us  for  once 
chat  confidentially  and  cordially,  as  becomes  brother  and 
sister.  Tell  me,  who  is  Geraldine?  " 

"A  phantom,  an  ideal!  I  have  told  you  that  al- 
ready." 

"  You  really  love,  then,  no  lady  at  this  court?  " 

"No,  none!  There  is  among  all  these  ladies,  with 
whom  the  queen  has  surrounded  herself,  not  one  whom  I 
am  able  to  love." 

"  Ah,  your  heart  then  is  free,  Henry;  and  you  will  be 
so  much  more  easily  inclined  to  comply  with  the  king's 
wish." 

„  "  What  does  the  king  wish?  " 

She  laid  her  head  on  her  brother's  shoulder,  and  said  in 
a  low  whisper:  "  That  the  Howard  and  Seymour  families 


222  HENRY    VIIT.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

be  at  last  reconciled;  that  at  last  they  may  reconcile  the 
hatred,  which  has  for  centuries  separated  them,  by  means 
of  a  firm  and  sincere  bond  of  love." 

"  Ah,  the  king  wants  that! "  cried  the  earl,  scornfully. 
"  Forsooth,  now,  he  has  made  a  good  beginning  toward 
bringing  about  this  reconciliation.  He  has  insulted  mo 
before  all  Europe,  by  removing  me  from  my  command, 
and  investing  a  Seymour  with  my  rank  and  dignity;  and 
he  requires  that  I  in  return  shall  love  this  arrogant  earl, 
who  has  robbed  me  of  what  is  my  due;  who  has  long  in- 
trigued and  besieged  the  king's  ears  with  lies  and  calum- 
nies, till  he  has  gained  his  end  and  supplanted  me." 

"  It  is  true  the  king  recalled  you  from  the  army;  but 
this  was  done  in  order  to  give  you  the  first  place  at  his 
court — to  appoint  you  lord  chamberlain  to  the  queen." 

Henry  Howard  trembled  and  was  silent.  "  It  is  true," 
he  then  muttered;  "  I  am  obliged  to  the  king  for  this 
place." 

"  And  then,"  continued  the  duchess,  with  an  innocent 
air,  "  then  I  do  not  believe  either  that  Lord  Hertford  is  to 
blame  for  your  recall.  To  prove  this  to  you,  he  has  made 
a  proposal  to  the  king,  and  to  me  also,  which  is  to  testify 
to  you  and  to  all  the  world  how  great  an  honor  Lord  Hert- 
ford esteems  it  to  be  allied  to  the  Howards,  and  above  all 
things  to  you,  by  the  most  sacred  bonds." 

"  Ah,  that  noble,  magnanimous  lord! "  cried  Henry 
Howard,  with  a  bitter  laugh.  "  As  matters  do  not  ad- 
vance well  with  laurels,  he  tries  the  myrtles;  since  he  can 
win  no  battles,  he  wants  to  make  marriages.  Now,  sister, 
let  me  hear  what  he  has  to  propose." 

"  A  double  marriage,  Henry.  He  asks  my  hand  for  his 
brother  Thomas  Seymour,  provided  you  choose  his  sister, 
Lady  Margaret,  for  your  wife." 

"Never!"  cried  the  earl.  "  Xevor  will  Henry  How- 
ard present  his  hand  to  a  daughter  of  that  house;  never 
condescend  so  far  as  to  elevate  a  Seymour  to  be  his  wife. 
That  is  well  enough  for  a  king — not  for  a  Howard!  " 


HENKY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  223 

"  Brother,  you  insult  the  king!  " 

"  Well,  I  insult  him,  then!  He  has  insulted  me,  too, 
in  arranging  this  base  scheme." 

"  Brother,  reflect;  the  Seymours  are  powerful,  and 
stand  high  in  the  king's  favor." 

"Yes,  in  the  king's  favor  they  stand  high!  But  the 
people  know  their  proud,  cruel,  and  arrogant  disposition; 
and  the  people  and  nobility  despise  them.  The  Seymours 
have  the  voice  of  the  king  in  their  favor;  the  Howards  the 
voice  of  the  whole  country,  and  that  is  of  more  conse- 
quence. The  king  can  exalt  the  Seymours,  for  they  stand 
far  beneath  him.  He  cannot  exalt  the  Howards,  for  they 
are  his  equals.  Nor  can  he  degrade  them.  Catharine 
died  on  the  scaffold — the  king  became  thereby  only  a 
hangman — our  escutcheon  was  not  sullied  by  that  act! " 

"  These  are  very  proud  words,  Henry !  " 

"  They  become  a  son  of  the  Norfolks,  Rosabella!  Ah, 
see  that  petty  Lord  Hertford,  Earl  Seymour.  He  covets 
a  ducal  coronet  for  his  sister.  He  wants  to  give  her  to  me 
to  wife;  for  as  soon  as  our  poor  father  dies,  I  wear  his 
coronet!  The  arrogant  upstarts!  For  the  sister's  escutch- 
eon, my  coronet;  for  the  brother's,  your  coronet.  Never, 
say  I,  shall  that  be!  " 

The  duchess  had  become  pale,  and  a  tremor  ran 
through  her  proud  form.  Her  eyes  flashed,  and  an  angry 
word  was  already  suspended  on  her  lips;  but  she  still  held 
it  back.  She  violently  forced  herself  to  calmness  and  self- 
possession. 

"  Consider  once  more,  Henry,"  said  she,  "  do  not  de- 
cide at  once.  You  speak  of  our  greatness;  but  you  do  not 
bear  in  mind  the  power  of  the  Seymours.  I  tell  you  they 
are  powerful  enough  to  tread  us  in  the  dust,  despite  all 
our  greatness.  And  they  are  not  only  powerful  at  the 
present;  they  will  be  so  in  the  future  also;  for  it  is  well 
known  in  what  disposition  and  what  way  of  thinking  the 
Prince  of  Wales  is  trained  up.  The  king  is  old,  weak,  and 
failing:  death  lurks  behind  his  throne,  and  will  soon 


224  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COUKT. 

enough  press  him  in  his  arms.  Then  Edward  is  king. 
With  him,  the  heresy  of  Protestantism  triumphs;  and 
however  great  and  numerous  our  party  may  be,  yet  we 
shall  be  powerless  and  subdued.  Yes,  we  shall  be  the 
oppressed  and  persecuted." 

"  We  shall  then  know  how  to  fight,  and  if  it  must  be  so, 
to  die  also! "  cried  her  brother.  "  It  is  more  honorable  to 
die  on  the  battle-field  than  to  purchase  life  and  humilia- 
tion." 

"  Yes,  it  is  honorable  to  die  on  the  field  of  battle;  but, 
Henry,  it  is  a  disgrace  to  come  to  an  end  upon  the  scaf- 
fold. And  that,  my  brother,  may  be  your  fate,  if  you  do 
not  this  time  bend  your  pride;  if  you  do  not  grasp  the 
hand  that  Lord  Hertford  extends  to  you  in  reconciliation, 
but  mortally  offend  him.  He  will  take  bloody  vengeance, 
when  once  he  comes  into  power." 

"Let  him  do  it,  if  he  can;  my  life  is  in  God's  hand! 
My  head  belongs  to  the  king,  but  my  heart  to  myself;  and 
that  I  will  never  degrade  to  merchandise,  which  I  may 
barter  for  a  little  security  and  royal  favor." 

"  Brother,  I  conjure  you,  consider  it!  "  cried  the  duch- 
ess, no  longer  able  to  restrain  her  passionate  disposition, 
and  all  ablaze  in  her  savage  wrath.  "  Dare  not  in  proud 
arrogance  to  destroy  my  future  also!  You  may  die  on  the 
scaffold,  if  you  choose;  but  I — I  will  be  happy;  I  will  at 
last,  after  so  many  years  of  sorrow  and  disgrace,  have  my 
share  of  life's  joys  also.  It  is  my  due,  and  I  will  not  re- 
linquish it;  and  you  shall  not  be  allowed  to  tear  it  from 
me.  Know,  then,  my  brother,  I  love  Thomas  Seymour; 
all  my  desire,  all  my  hope  is  fixed  on  him;  and  I  will  not 
tear  this  love  out  of  my  heart;  I  will  not  give  him  up." 

"Well,  if  you  love  him,  marry  him,  then!"  exclaimed 
her  brother.  "  Become  the  wife  of  this  Thomas  Seymour! 
Ask  the  duke,  our  father,  for  his  consent  to  this  marriage, 
and  I  am  certain  he  will  not  refuse  you,  for  he  is  prudent 
and  cautious,  and  will,  better  than  I,  calculate  the  advan- 
>ages  which  a  connection  with  the  Seymours  may  yield 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  225 

our  family.  Do  that,  sister,  and  marry  your  dearly  be- 
loved. I  do  not  hinder  you." 

"  Yes,  you  do  hinder  me — you  alone! "  cried  his  sister, 
flaming  with  wrath.  "  You  will  refuse  Margaret's  hand; 
you  will  give  the  Seymours  mortal  offence.  You  thereby 
make  my  union  with  Thomas  Seymour  impossible!  In  the 
proud  selfishness  of  your  haughtiness,  you  see  not  that  you 
are  dashing  to  atoms  my  happiness,  while  you  are  thinking 
only  of  your  desire  to  offend  the  Seymours.  But  I  tell 
you,  I  love  Thomas  Seymour — nay,  I  adore  him.  He  is 
my  happiness,  my  future,  my  eternal  bliss.  Therefore 
have  pity  on  me,  Henry!  Grant  me  this  happiness,  which 
I  implore  you  for  as  Heaven's  blessing.  Prove  to  me  that 
you  love  me,  and  are  willing  to  make  this  sacrifice  for  me. 
Henry,  on  my  knees,  I  conjure  you!  Give  me  the  man  I 
love;  bend  your  proud  head;  become  Margaret  Seymours 
husband,  that  Thomas  Seymour  may  become  mine." 

She  had  actually  sunk  upon  her  knees;  and  her  face 
deluged  with  tears,  bewitchingly  beautiful  in  her  passion- 
ate emotion,  she  looked  up  imploringly  to  her  brother. 

But  the  earl  did  not  lift  her  up;  on  the  contrary, 
with  a  smile,  he  fell  back  a  step.  "  How  long  is  it  now, 
duchess,"  asked  he,  mockingly,  "  since  you  swore  that  your 
secretary,  Mr.  Wilford,  was  the  man  whom  you  loved? 
Positively,  I  believed  you — I  believed  it  till  I  one  day 
found  you  in  the  arms  of  your  page.  On  that  day,  I 
swore  to  myself  never  to  believe  you  again,  though  you 
vowed  to  me,  with  an  oath  ever  so  sacred,  that  you  loved 
a  man.  Well,  now,  you  love  a  man;  but  what  one,  is  a 
matter  of  indifference.  To-day  his  name  is  Thomas,  to- 
morrow Archibald,  or  Edward  as  you  please!  " 

For  the  first  time  the  earl  drew  the  veil  away  from  his 
heart,  and  let  his  sister  see  all  the  contempt  and  anger 
that  he  felt  toward  her. 

The  duchess  also  felt  wounded  by  his  words,  as  by  a 
red-hot  iron. 

She  sprang  from  her  knees;  and  with  flurried  breath. 


226  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

with  looks  flashing  with  rage,  every  muscle  of  her  counte- 
nance convulsed  and  trembling,  there  she  stood  before  lier 
brother.  She  was  a  woman  no  more;  she  was  a  lioness, 
that,  without  compassion  or  pity,  will  devour  him  who  has 
dared  irritate  her. 

"Earl  of  Surrey,  you  are  a  shameless  wretch!"  said 
she,  with  compressed,  quivering  lips.  "  Were  I  a  man,  I 
would  slap  you  in  the  face,  and  call  you  a  scoundrel.  But, 
by  the  eternal  God,  you  shall  not  say  that  you  have  done 
this  with  impunity!  Once  more,  and  for  the  last  time,  I 
now  ask  you,  will  you  comply  with  Lord  Hertford's  wish;' 
Will  you  marry  Lady  Margaret,  and  accompany  me  with 
Thomas  Seymour  to  the  altar?  " 

"  No,  I  will  not,  and  I  will  never  do  it!  "  exclaimed  her 
brother,  solemnly.  "  The  Howards  bow  not  before  the 
Seymours;  and  never  will  Henry  Howard  marry  a  wife 
that  he  does  not  love!  " 

"Ah,  you  love  her  not!  "  said  she,  breathless,  gnashing 
her  teeth.  "  You  do  not  love  Lady  Margaret;  and  for 
this  reason  must  your  sister  renounce  her  love,  and  give  up 
this  man  whom  she  adores.  Ah,  you  love  not  this  sister  of 
Thomas  Seymour?  She  is  not  the  Geraldine  whom  you 
adore — to  whom  you  dedicate  your  verses!  Well,  now,  I 
will  find  her  out — your  Geraldine.  I  will  discover  her; 
and  then,  woe  to  you  and  to  her!  You  refuse  me  your 
hand  to  lead  me  to  the  altar  with  Thomas  Seymour;  well, 
now,  I  will  one  day  extend  you  my  hand  to  conduct  you 
and  your  Geraldine  to  the  scaffold! " 

And  as  she  saw  how  the  earl  startled  and  turned  pale, 
she  continued  with  a  scornful  laugh:  "Ah,  you  shrink, 
and  horror  creeps  over  you!  Does  your  conscience  admon- 
ish you  that  the  hero,  rigid  in  virtue,  may  yet  sometimes 
make  a  false  step?  You  thought  to  hide  your  secret,  if 
you  enveloped  it  in  the  veil  of  night,  like  your  Geraldine, 
who,  as  you  wailingly  complain  in  that  poem  there,  never 
shows  herself  to  you  without  a  veil  as  black  as  night.  Just 
wait,  wait!  I  will  strike  a  light  for  you,  before  which  all 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  227 

your  night-like  veils  shall  be  torii  in  shreds;  I  will  light  up 
the  night  of  your  secret  with  a  torch  which  will  be  large 
enough  to  set  on  fire  the  fagot  piles  about  the  stake  to 
which  you  and  your  Geraldine  are  to  go! " 

"  Ah,  now  you  let  me  see  for  the  first  time  your  real 
countenance,"  said  Henry  Howard,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders. "  The  angel's  mask  falls  from  your  face;  and  I  be- 
hold the  fury  that  was  hidden  beneath  it.  Now  you  are 
your  mother's  own  daughter;  and  at  this  moment  I  com- 
prehend for  the  first  time  what  my  father  has  suffered, 
and  why  he^  shunned  not  even  the  disgrace  of  a  divorce, 
just  to  be  delivered  from  such  a  Megaera." 

"  Oh,  I  thank  you,  thank  you! "  cried  she,  with  a  sav- 
age laugh.  "  You  are  filling  up  the  measure  of  your  in- 
iquity. It  is  not  enough  that  you  drive  your  sister  to  de- 
spair; you  revile  your  mother  also!  You  say  that  we  are 
furies;  well,  indeed,  for  we  shall  one  day  be  such  to  you, 
and  we  will  show  you  our  Medusa-face,  before  which  you 
will  be  stiffened  to  stone.  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey, 
from  this  hour  out,  I  am  your  implacable  enemy;  look  out 
for  the  head  on  your  shoulders,  for  my  hand  is  raised 
against  it,  and  in  my  hand  is  a  sword!  Guard  well  the 
secret  that  sleeps  in  your  breast;  for  you  have  transformed 
me  to  a  vampire  that  will  suck  your  heart's  blood.  You 
have  reviled  my  mother,  and  I  will  go  hence  and  tell  her 
of  it.  She  will  believe  me;  for  she  well  knows  that 
you  hate  her,  and  that  you  are  a  genuine  son  of  your 
father;  that  is  to  say,  a  canting  hypocrite,  a  miserable 
fellow,  who  carries  virtue  on  the  lips  and  crime  in  the 
heart." 

"  Cease,  I  say,  cease,"  cried  the  earl,  "  if  you  do  not 
want  me  to  forget  that  you  are  a  woman  and  my  sister!  " 

"  Forget  it  by  all  means,"  said  she,  scornfully.  "  I 
have  forgotten  long  since  that  you  are  my  brother,  as  you 
have  long  since  forgotten  that  you  are  the  son  of  your 
mother.  Farewell,  Earl  of  Surrey;  I  leave  you  and  your 
palace,  and  will  from  this  hour  out  abide  with  my  mother, 


228  HENRY    VIII.    AM)    HIS    COURT. 

the  divorced  wife  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk.  But  mark  you 
this:  we  two  are  separated  from  you  in  our  love — but  not 
in  our  hate!  Our  hatred  to  you  remains  eternal  and  un- 
changeable; a-nd  one  day  it  will  crush  you!  Farewell, 
Earl  of  Surrey;  we  meet  again  in  the  king's  presence! " 

She  rushed  to  the  door.  Henry  Howard  did  not  hold 
her  back.  He  looked  after  her  with  a  smile  as  she  left  the 
cabinet,  and  murmured,  almost  compassionately:  "Poor 
woman!  I  have,  perhaps,  cheated  her  out  of  a  lover,  and 
she  will  never  forgive  me  that.  Well,  let  it  be  so!  Let 
her,  as  much  as  she  pleases,  be  my  enemy,  and  torment 
me  with  petty  pin-prickings,  if  she  be  but  unable  to  harm 
her.  I  hope,  though,  that  I  have  guarded  well  my  secret, 
and  she  could  not  suspect  the  real  cause  of  my  refusal. 
Ah,  I  was  obliged  to  wrap  myself  in  that  foolish  family 
pride,  and  make  haughtiness  a  cloak  for  my  love.  Oh, 
Geraldine,  tliee  would  I  choose,  wert  thou  the  daughter  of 
a  peasant;  and  I  would  not  hold  my  escutcheon  tarnished, 
if  for  Ihy  sake  I  must  draw  a  pale  athwart  it. — But  hark! 
It  is  striking  four!  My  service  begins!  Farewell,  Geral- 
dine, I  must  to  the  queen!  " 

And  while  he  betook  himself  to  his  dressing-room,  to 
put  on  his  state  robes  for  the  great  court  feast,  the  Duches? 
of  Richmond  returned  to  her  own  apartments,  trembling 
and  quivering  with  rage.  She  traversed  these  with  pre- 
cipitate haste,  and  entered  her  boudoir,  where  Earl  Doug- 
las was  waiting  for  her. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  stepping  toward  her  with  his  soft, 
lurking  smile,  "has  he  consented?" 

"  No,"  said  she,  gnashing  her  teeth.  "  He  swore  he 
would  never  enter  into  an  alliance  with  the  Seymours." 

"  I  well  knew  that,"  muttered  the  earl.  "  And  what 
do  you  decide  upon  now,  my  lady?  " 

"I  will  have  revenge!  He  wants  to  hinder  me  from 
being  happy;  I  will  for  that  make  him  unhappy!  " 

"  You  will  do  well  in  that,  my  lady;  for  he  is  an  apos- 
tate and  perjurer;  an  unfaithful  son  of  the  Church.  II" 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  229 

inclines  to  the  heretical  sect,  and  has  forgotten  the  faith 
of  his  fathers." 

"  I  know  it!  "  said  she,  breathlessly. 

Earl  Douglas  looked  at  her  in  astonishment,  arid  con- 
tinued: "But  he  is  not  merely  an  atheist,  he  is  a  traitor 
also;  and  more  than  once  he  has  reviled  his  king,  to  whom 
he,  in  his  pride  of  heart,  believes  himself  far  superior." 

"  I  know  it!  "  repeated  she. 

"  So  proud  is  he,"  continued  the  earl,  "  so  full  of  blas- 
phemous haughtiness,  that  he  might  lay  his  hands  upon 
the  crown  of  England." 

"  I  know  it!  "  said  the  duchess  again.  But  as  she  saw 
the  earl's  astonished  and  doubting  looks,  she  added,  with 
an  inhuman  smile:  "I  know  everything  that  you  want 
that  I  should  know!  Only  impute  crimes  to  him;  only  ac- 
cuse him;  I  will  substantiate  everything,  testify  to  every- 
thing that  will  bring  him  to  ruin.  My  mother  is  our  ally; 
she  hates  the  father  as  hotly  as  I  the  son.  Bring  your  ac- 
cusation, then,  Earl  Douglas;  we  are  your  witnesses! " 

"  Nay,  indeed,  my  lady,"  said  he,  with  a  gentle,  in- 
sinuating smile.  "  I  know  nothing  at  all;  I  have  heard 
nothing;  how,  then,  can  I  bring  an  accusation?  You 
know  all;  to  you  he  has  spoken.  You  must  be  his  ac- 
cuser! " 

"  Well,  then,  conduct  me  to  the  king!  "  said  she. 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  give  you  some  more  advice 
first?" 

"  Do  so,  Earl  Douglas." 

"Be  very  cautious  in  the  choice  of  your  means.  Do 
not  waste  them  all  at  once,  so  that  if  your  first  thrust  does 
not  hit,  you  may  not  be  afterward  without  weapons.  It 
is  better,  and  far  less  dangerous,  to  surely  kill  the  enemy 
that  you  hate  with  a  slow,  creeping  poison,  gradually  and 
day  by  day,  than  to  murder  him  at  once  with  a  dagger, 
which  may,  however,  break  on  a  rib  and  become  ineffective. 
Tell,  then,  what  you  know,  not  at  once,  but  little  by  little. 
Administer  your  drug  which  is  to  make  the  king  furious, 


230  HENRY    V11I.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

gradually;  and  if  you  do  not  hit  your  enemy  to-day,  think 
that  you  will  do  it  so  much  the  more  surely  to-morrow. 
Nor  do  you  forget  that  we  have  to  punish,  not  merely  the 
heretic  Henry  Howard,  but  above  all  things  the  heretical 
queen,  whose  unbelief  will  call  down  the  wrath  of  the 
Most  High  upon  this  land." 

"  Come  to  the  king,"  said  she,  hastily.  "  On  the  way 
you  can  tell  me  what  I  ought  to  make  known  and  what 
conceal.  I  will  do  implicitly  what  you  say.  Now,  Ilenrj 
Howard,"  said  she  softly  to  herself,  "  hold  yourself  ready; 
the  contest  begins!  In  your  pride  and  selfishness  you 
have  destroyed  the  happiness  of  my  life — my  eternal  fe- 
licity. I  loved  Thomas  Seymour;  I  hoped  by  his  side  to 
find  the  happiness  that  I  have  so  long  and  so  vainly  sought 
in  the  crooked  paths  of  life.  By  this  love  my  soul  would 
have  been  saved  and  restored  to  virtue.  My  brother  has 
willed  otherwise.  He  has,  therefore,  condemned  me  to  he 
a  demon,  instead  of  an  angel.  I  will  fulfil  my  destiny. 
I  will  be  an  evil  spirit  to  him."  * 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

THE  QUEEN'S  TOILET. 

THE  festivities  of  the  day  are  concluded,  and  the  gal- 
lant knights  and  champions,  who  have  to-day  broken  a 
lance  for  the  honor  of  their  ladies,  may  rest  from  their  vic- 

-  *  The  Earl  of  Surrey,  by  his  refusal  to  marry  Margaret  Seymour, 
pave  occasion  to  the  rupture  of  the  proposed  alliance  between 
Thomas  Seymour  and  the  Duchess  of  Richmond,  his  sister.  After 
that  the  duchess  mortally  hated  him  and  combined  with  his  enemios 
against  him.  The  Duchess  of  Richmond  is  designated  by  all  the 
historians  of  her  time  as  "the  most  bonutiful  woman  of  her  century, 
but  also  a  shameless  Messalinn." — See  Tytler,  p.  390.  Also  Burnct, 
vol.  i,  p.  134 ;  Leti,  vol.  i,  p.  83 ;  and  Nott's  Life  of  Henry  Howard. 


HENRY   VIII.   AND  HIS   COURT.  231 

tories  upon  their  laurels.  The  tournament  of  arms  was 
over,  and  the  tournament  of  mind  was  about  to  begin. 
The  knights,  therefore,  retired  to  exchange  the  coat-of- 
mail  for  gold-embroidered  velvet  apparel;  the  ladies  to 
put  on  their  lighter  evening  dresses;  and  the  queen, 
likewise  with  this  design,  had  withdrawn  to  her  dress- 
ing-room, while  the  ladies  and  lords  of  her  court  were 
in  attendance  in  the  large  anteroom  to  escort  her  to  the 
throne. 

Without,  it  was  beginning  to  grow  dusky,  and  the  twi- 
light cast  its  long  shadows  across  this  hall,  in  which  the 
cavaliers  of  the  court  were  walking  up  and  down  with  the 
ladies,  and  discussing  the  particularly  important  events  of 
the  day's  tourney. 

The  Earl  of  Sudley,  Thomas  Seymour,  had  borne  off 
the  prize  of  the  day,  and  conquered  his  opponent,  Henry 
Howard.  The  king  had  been  in  raptures  on  this  account. 
For  Thomas  Seymour  had  been  for  some  time  his  favorite; 
perhaps  because  he  was  the  declared  enemy  of  the  How- 
ards. He  had,  therefore,  added  to  the  golden  laurel 
crown  which  the  queen  had  presented  to  the  earl  as  the 
award,  a  diamond  pin,  and  commanded  the  queen  to  fasten 
it  in  the  earl's  ruff  with  her  own  hand.  Catharine  had 
done  so  with  sullen  countenance  and  averted  looks;  and 
even  Thomas  Seymour  had  shown  himself  only  a  very 
little  delighted  with  the  proud  honor  with  which  the 
queen,  at  her  husband's  command,  was  to  grace  him. 

The  rigid  popish  party  at  court  formed  new  hopes  from 
this,  and  dreamed  of  the  queen's  conversion  and  return 
to  the  true,  pure  faith;  while  the  Protestant,  "the  heret- 
ical" party,  looked  to  the  future  with  gloomy  despond- 
ency, and  were  afraid  of  being  robbed  of  their  most  pow- 
erful support  and  their  most  influential  patronage. 

Nobody  had  seen  that,  as  the  queen  arose  to  crown  the 
victor,  Thomas  Seymour,  her  handkerchief,  embroidered 
with  gold,  fell  from  her  hands,  and  that  the  earl,  after 
he  had  taken  it  up  and  presented  it  to  the  queen,  had 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COl.'JM. 

thrust  his  hand  for  a  moment,  with  a  motion  wholly  acci- 
dental and  undesigned,  into  his  ruff,  which  was  just  as 
white  as  the  small  neatly-folded  paper  which  he  con- 
cealed in  it,  and  which  he  had  found  in  the  queen's  hand- 
kerchief. 

One  person  had  seen  it.  This  little  ruse  of  the  queen 
had  not  escaped  John  Heywood,  who  had  immediately,  by 
some  cutting  witticism,  set  the  king  to  laughing,  and  tried 
to  draw  the  attention  of  the  courtiers  from  the  queen  and 
her  lover. 

He  was  now  standing  crowded  into  the  embrasure  of  a 
window,  and  entirely  concealed  behind  the  silk  curtain; 
and  so,  without  being  seen,  he  let  his  falcon  eyes  roam  over 
the  whole  room. 

He  saw  everything;  he  heard  everything;  and,  noticed 
by  none,  he  observed  all. 

He  saw  how  Earl  Douglas  now  made  a  sign  to  Bishop 
Gardiner,  and  how  he  quickly  answered  it. 

As  if  by  accident,  both  now  left  the  groups  with  whom 
they  had  just  been  chatting,  and  drew  near  each  other, 
looking  about  for  some  place  where,  unobserved  and  sepa- 
rated from  the  rest,  they  might  converse  together.  In  all 
the  windows  were  standing  groups,  chatting  and  laugh  inir: 
only  that  window  behind  the  curtain  of  which  John  Hey- 
wood was  concealed,  was  unoccupied. 

So  Earl  Douglas  and  the  bishop  turned  thither. 

"  Shall  we  attain  our  end  to-day?  "  asked  Gardiner,  in 
a  low  voice., 

"  With  God's  gracious  assistance,  we  shall  annihilate  all 
our  enemies  to-day.  The  sword  already  hangs  over  tin  Mi- 
heads,  and  soon  it  will  fall  and  deliver  us  from  them,"  said 
Earl  Douglas,  solemnly. 

"Are  you,  then,  certain  of  it?"  asked  Gardiner,  and 
an  expression  of  cruel  delight  flitted  across  his  malicious, 
ashy  face.  "  But  tell  me,  how  comes  it  that  Archbishop 
Cmnmer  is  not  here?  " 

"  I  fe  is  sick,  and  so  had  to  remain  at  Lambeth." 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  233 

"May  this  sickness  be  the  forerunner  of  his  death!" 
muttered  the  bishop,  devoutly  folding  his  hands, 

"  It  will  be  so,  your  highness;  God  will  destroy  His 
enemies  and  bless  us.  Cranmer  is  accused,  and  the  king 
will  judge  him  without  mercy." 

"  And  the  queen?  " 

Earl  Douglas  was  a  moment  silent,  and  then  said,  in  a 
low  whisper:  "  Wait  but  a  few  hours  more,  and  she  will  be 
queen  no  longer.  Instead  of  returning  from  the  throne- 
room  to  her  apartments,  we  shall  accompany  her  to  the 
Tower." 

John  Heywood,  completely  enveloped  in  the  folds  of 
the  curtain,  held  his  breath  and  listened. 

"  And  you  are,  then,  perfectly  sure  of  our  victory  ?  " 
asked  Gardiner.  "  Can  no  accident,  no  unforeseen  cir- 
cumstance, snatch  it  from  us?" 

"If  the  queen  gives  him  the  rosette — no!  For  then 
the  king  will  find  Geraldine's  love-letter  in  the  silver  knot, 
and  she  is  condemned.  So  all  depends  on  the  queen's 
wearing  the  rosette,  and  not  discovering  its  contents.  But 
see,  your  highness,  there  is  the  Duchess  of  Eichmond  ap- 
proaching us.  She  makes  a  sign  to  me.  Now  pray  for  us, 
your  highness,  for  I  am  going  with  her  to  the  king,  and 
she  will  accuse  this  hated  Catharine  Parr!  I  tell  you, 
bishop,  it  is  an  accusation  involving  life  and  death;  and  if 
Catharine  escape  one  danger,  she  will  run  into  another. 
Wait  here  for  me,  your  highness;  I  will  return  soon  and 
tell  you  the  result  of  our  scheme.  Lady  Jane,  also,  will 
soon  bring  us  news  here." 

He  left  the  window  and  followed  the  duchess,  who 
crossed  the  hall,  and  with  her  disappeared  through  the 
door  that  led  to  the  king's  apartments. 

The  ladies  and  lords  of  the  court  laughed  and  chatted 
away. 

John  Heywood  stood,  with  throbbing  heart  and  in 
breathless  anxiety,  behind  the  curtain,  close  by  Gardiner, 

who  had  folded  his  hands  and  was  praying. 
16 


234  I1KXRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

While  (Jardincr  prayed,  and  Douglas  accused  and  ca- 
lumniated, the  queen,  suspecting  nothing  of  these  plots 
they  were  framing  against  her,  was  in  her  toilet-room  and 
being  adorned  by  her  women. 

She  was  to-day  very  beautiful,  very  magnificent  to  look 
upon;  at  once  a  woman  and  queen;  at  the  same  time  re.- 
splendent  and  modest,  with  a  bewitching  smile  on  her  rosy 
lips;  and  yet  commanding  respect  in  her  proud  and  glori- 
ous beauty.  None  of  Henry's  queens  had  so  well  under- 
stood the  art  of  appearing  in  public,  and  none  remained  so 
much  the  woman  while  doing  so. 

As  she  now  stood  before  the  large  mirror,  which  the 
Republic  of  Venice  had  sent  the  king  as  a  wedding-gift, 
and  which  reflected  the  figure  of  the  queen  sparkling  with 
diamonds,  she  smiled,  for  she  was  obliged  to  confess  to  her- 
self that  she  was  very  beautiful  to-day;  and  she  thought 
that  to-day  Thomas  Seymour  would  look  upon  his  love 
with  pride. 

As  she  thought  of  him,  a  deep  crimson  overspread  her 
face,  and  a  thrill  flew  through  her  frame.  How  handsome 
he  had  been  at  the  tournament  that  day;  how  splendidly 
he  leaped  over  the  barriers;  how  his  eye  flashed;  how  con- 
temptuous had  been  his  smile!  And  then,  that  look  which 
he  directed  over  to  her  at  the  moment  when  he  had  con- 
quered his  antagonist,  Henry  Howard,  and  hurled  the 
lance  from  his  hand!  Oh,  her  heart  was  then  ready  to 
burst  with  delight  and  rapture! 

Wholly  given  up  to  her  reverie,  she  sank  in  her  gilded 
arm-chair  and  cast  her  eyes  to  the  ground,  dreaming  and 
smiling. 

Behind  her  stood  her  women  in  respectful  silence,  wait- 
ing for  a  sign  from  their  mistress.  But  the  queen  no 
longer  thought  at  all  of  them;  she  imagined  herself  alone; 
she  saw  nobody  but  that  handsome,  manly  face  for  which 
she  had  reserved  a  place  in  her  heart. 

Now  the  door  opened,  and  Ijady  Jane  Douglas  entered. 
She,  too,  was  magnificently  dressed,  and  sparkling  with 


HEMiY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  235 

diamonds;  she,  too,  was  beautiful,  but  it  was  the  pallid, 
dreadful  beauty  of  a  demon;  and  he  who  looked  upon  her 
just  then,  as  she  entered  the  room,  would  have  trembled, 
and  his  heart  would  have  been  seized  with  an  undefined 
fear. 

She  threw  a  quick  glance  on  her  mistress  lost  in  re  very; 
and  as  she  saw  that  her  toilet  was  finished,  she  made  a  sign 
to  the  women,  who  silently  obeyed  and  left  the  room. 

Still  Catharine  noticed  nothing.  Lady  Jane  stood  be- 
hind her  and  observed  her  in  the  mirror.  As  she  saw 
the  queen  smile,  her  brow  darkened  and  fierce  fire  flashed 
in  her  eyes. 

.  "  She  shall  smile  no  more,"  said  she  to  herself.  "  I 
suffer  thus  terribly  by  her;  well,  now,  she  shall  suffer  too." 

Softly  and  noiselessly  she  slipped  into  the  next  room, 
the  door  of  which  stood  ajar,  and  opened  with  hurried 
hand  a  carton  filled  with  ribbons  and  bows.  Then  she 
drew  from  the  velvet  pocket,  wrought  with  pearls,  which 
hung  at  her  side,  suspended  by  a  gold  chain,  a  dark-red 
rosette,  and  threw  it  into  the  box.  That  was  all. 

Lady  Jane  now  returned  to  the  adjoining  room;  and 
her  countenance,  which  had  been  previously  gloomy  and 
threatening,  was  now  proud  and  joyful. 

With  a  bright  smile  she  walked  up  to  the  queen,  and 
kneeling  down  at  her  side,  she  pressed  a  fervent  kiss  on 
the  hand  that  was  hanging  down. 

"  What  is  my  queen  musing  over?  "  asked  she,  as  she 
laid  her  head  on  Catharine's  knee  and  tenderly  looked  up 
at  her. 

The  queen  gave  a  slight  start,  and  raised  her  head. 
She  saw  Lady  Jane's  tender  smile,  and  her  yet  searching 
looks. 

Because  she  felt  conscious  of  guilt,  at  least  of  guilty 
thoughts,  she  was  on  her  guard,  and  remembered  John 
Heywood's  warning. 

"  She  is  observing  me,"  she  said  to  herself;  "  she  seems 
affectionate;  so  she  is  brooding  over  some  wicked  plot." 


236  11KNBY   VHI.    AND   HIS   COUBT. 

"  Ah,  it  is  well  you  have  come,  Jane,"  said  she  aloud. 
"  You  can  help  me;  for,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  in 
great  perplexity.  I  am  in  want  of  a  rhyme,  and  I  am 
thinking  in  vain  how  I  shall  find  it." 

"Ah,  are  you  composing  poetry,  queen?" 

"Why,  Jane,  does  that  surprise  you?  Shall  I,  the 
queen,  be  able,  then,  to  bear  off  no  prize?  I  would  give 
my  precious  jewels,  if  I  could  succeed  in  composing  a  poem 
to  which  the  king  was  obliged  to  award  the  prize.  But  I 
am  wanting  in  a  musical  ear;  I  cannot  find  the  rhyme,  and 
§0  shall  be  obliged  at  last  to  give  up  the  idea  of  win- 
ning laurels  also.  How  the  king  would  enjoy  it,  though! 
For,  to  confess  the  truth  to  you,  I  believe  he  is  a  little 
afraid  that  Henry  Howard  will  bear  off  the  prize,  and 
he  would  be  very  thankful  to  me  if  I  could  contest  it 
with  him.  You  well  know  the  king  has  no  love  for  the 
Howards." 

"And  you,  queen?"  asked  Jane;  and  she  turned  so 
pale,  that  the  queen  herself  noticed  it. 

"  You  are  unwell,  Jane,"  said  she,  sympathizmgly. 
"  Really,  Jane,  you  seem  to  be  suffering.  You  need  rec- 
reation; you  should  rest  a  little." 

But  Jane  had  already  regained  her  calm  and  earnest 
air,  and  she  succeeded  in  smiling. 

"No,  indeed!"  said  she.  "I  am  well,  and  satisfied 
to  be  permitted  to  be  near  you.  But  will  you  allow  me, 
queen,  to  make  a  request  of  you?  " 

"  Ask,  Jane,  ask,  and  it  is  granted  beforehand;  for  I 
know  that  Jane  will  request  nothing  that  her  friend  can- 
not grant." 

Lady  Jane  was  silent,  and  looked  thoughtfully  upon 
the  ground.  With  firm  resolution  she  struggled  with  her- 
self. Her  proud  heart  reared  fiercely  up  at  the  thought 
of  bowing  before  this  woman,  whom  she  hated,  and  of  be- 
ing obliged  to  approach  her  with  a  fawning  prayer.  She 
felt  such  raging  hate  against  the  queen,  that  in  that 
hour  she  would  willingly  have  given  her  own  life,  if  she 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  237 

could  hare  first  seen  her  enemy  at  her  feet,  wailing  and 
crushed. 

Henry  Howard  loved  the  queen;  so  Catharine  had 
robbed  her  of  the  heart  of  him  whom  she  adored.  Catha- 
rine had  condemned  her  to  the  eternal  torment  of  re- 
nouncing him — to  the  rack  of  enjoying  a  happiness  and  a 
rapture  that  was  not  hers — to  warm  herself  at  a  fire 
which  she  like  a  thief  had  stolen  from  the  altar  of  an- 
other's god. 

Catharine  was  condemned  and  doomed.  Jane  had  no 
more  compassion.  She  must  crush  her. 

"Well/'  asked  the  queen,  "you  are  silent?  You  do 
not  tell  me  what  I  am  to  grant  you?  " 

Lady  Jane  raised  her  eyes,  and  her  look  was  serene  and 
peaceful.  "  Queen,"  said  she,  "  I  encountered  in  the  ante- 
room one  who  is  unhappy,  deeply  bowed  down.  In  your 
hand  alone  is  the  power  to  raise  him  up  again.  Will  you 
doit?" 

"  Will  I  do  it!  "  exclaimed  Catharine,  quickly.  "  Oh, 
Jane,  you  well  know  how  much  my  heart  longs  to  help  and 
be  serviceable  to  the  unfortunate!  Ah,  so  many  wounds 
are  inflicted  at  this  court,  and  the  queen  is  so  poor  in  balm 
to  heal  them!  Allow  me  this  pleasure  then,  Jane,  and  I 
shall  be  thankful  to  you,  not  you  to  me!  Speak  then, 
Jane,  speak  quickly;  who  is  it  that  needs  my  help?  " 

"  Not  your  help,  queen,  but  your  compassion  and 
your  grace.  Earl  Sudley  has  conquered  poor  Earl  Surrey 
in  the  tournament  to-day,  and  you  comprehend  that 
your  lord  chamberlain  feels  himself  deeply  bowed  and 
humbled." 

"  Can  I  alter  that,  Jane?  Why  did  the  visionary  earl, 
the  enthusiastic  poet,  allow  himself  a  contest  with  a  hero 
who  already  knows  what  he  wants,  and  ever  accomplishes 
what  he  wills?  Oh,  it  was  wonderful  to  look  upon,  with 
what  lightning  speed  Thomas  Seymour  lifted  him  out  of 
the  saddle!  And  the  proud  Earl  Surrey,  the  wise  and 
learned  man,  the  powerful  party  leader,  was  forced  to  bow 


238  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

before  the  hero,  who  like  an  angel  Michael  had  thrown 
him  in  the  dust." 

The  queen  laughed. 

That  laugh  went  through  Jane's  heart  like  a  cutting 
sword. 

She  shall  pay  me  for  that!  "  said  she  softly  to  herself. 
"  Queen,"  said  she  aloud,  "you  are  perfectly  right;  he  has 
deserved  this  humiliation;  but  now,  after  he  is  punished, 
you  should  lift  him  up.  Nay,  do  not  shake  your  beautiful 
head.  Do  it  for  your  own  sake,  queen;  do  it  from  pru- 
dence. Earl  Surrey,  with  his  father,  is  the  head  of  a  pow- 
erful party,  whom  this  humiliation  of  the  Howards  fills 
with  a  still  more  burning  hate  against  the  Seymours,  and 
who  will,  in  time  to  come,  take  a  bloody  revenge  for  it." 

"  Ah,  you  frighten  me!  "  said  the  queen,  who  had  now 
become  serious. 

Lady  Jane  continued:  "  I  saw  how  the  Duke  of  Nor- 
folk bit  his  lips,  as  his  son  had  to  yield  to  Seymour;  I  heard 
how  one,  here  and  there,  muttered  low  curses  and  vows  of 
vengeance  against  the  Seymours." 

"Who  did  that?  Who  dared  to  do  it?"  exclaimed 
Catharine,  springing  up  impetuously  from  her  arm-chair. 
"  Who  at  this  court  is  so  audacious  as  to  wish  to  injure 
those  whom  the  queen  loves?  Name  him  to  me,  Jane;  I 
will  know  his  name!  I  will  know  it,  that  I  may  accuse 
him  to  the  king.  For  the  king  does  not  want  that  these 
noble  Seymours  should  give  way  to  the  Howards;  he  does 
not  want  that  the  nobler,  the  better,  and  more  glorious, 
should  bow  before  these  quarrelsome,  domineering  papists. 
The  king  loves  the  noble  Seymours,  and  his  powerful  arm 
will  protect  them  against  all  their  enemies." 

"  And,  without  doubt,  your  majesty  will  assist  him  in 
it?  "  said  Jane,  smiling. 

This  smile  brought  the  queen  back  to  her  senses  again. 

She  perceived  that  she  had  gone  too  far;  that  she  had 
betrayed  too  much  of  her  secret.  She  must,  therefore,  re- 
pair the  damage,  and  allow  her  incitement  to  be  forgotten. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  239 

Therefore  she  said,  calmly:  "  Certainly,  Jane;  I  will 
assist  the  king  to  be  just.  But  never  will  I  be  unjust,  not 
even  against  these  papists.  If  I  cannot  love  them,  never- 
theless no  one  shall  say  that  I  hate  them.  And  besides,  it 
becomes  a  queen  to  rise  above  parties.  Say,  then,  Jane, 
what  can  I  do  for  poor  Surrey?  With  what  shall  we  bind 
up  these  wounds  that  the  brave  Seymour  has  inflicted  on 
him?  " 

"  You  have  publicly  given  the  victor  in  the  tournament 
a  token  of  your  great  favor — you  have  crowned  him." 

"  It  was  the  king's  order,"  exclaimed  Catharine, 
warmly. 

"  Well!  He  will  not,  however,  command  you  to  re- 
ward the  Earl  of  Surrey  also,  if  he  likewise  should  gain 
the  victory  this  evening.  Do  it,  therefore,  of  your  own 
accord,  queen.  Give  him  openly,  before  your  whole  court, 
a  token  of  your  favor!  It  is  so  easy  for  princes  to  make 
men  happy,  to  comfort  the  unfortunate!  A  smile,  a  friend- 
ly word,  a  pressure  of  the  hand  is  sufficient  for  it.  A  rib- 
bon that  you  wear  on  your  dress  makes  him  to  whom  you 
present  it,  proud  and  happy,  and  raises  him  high  above  all 
others.  Ponder  it  well,  queen;  I  speak  not  for  Earl  Sur- 
rey's sake;  I  am  thinking  more  of  yourself.  If  you  have 
the  courage,  publicly  and  in  spite  of  the  disgrace  with 
which  King  Henry  threatens  the  Howards,  to  be  neverthe- 
less just  to  them,  and  to  recognize  their  merits  as  well  as 
that  of  others — believe  me,  if  you  do  that,  the  whole  of 
this  powerful  party,  which  is  now  hostile  to  you,  will  fall 
at  your  feet  overcome  and  conquered.  You  will  at  last 
become  the  all-powerful  and  universally  loved  Queen  of 
England;  and,  like  the  heretics,  the  papists  also  will  call 
you  their  mistress  and  protectress.  Consider  no  longer! 
Let  your  noble  and  generous  heart  prevail!  Spiteful  for- 
tune has  prostrated  Henry  Howard  in  the  'dust.  Extend 
him  your  hand,  queen,  that  he  may  rise  again,  and  again 
stand  there  at  your  court,  proud  and  radiant  as  he  always 
was.  Henry  Howard  well  deserves  that  you  should  be  grn- 


240  HENBY    VUI.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

cious  to  him.  Great  and  beaming  like  a  star,  lie  shines  on 
high  above  all  men;  and  there  is  no  one  who  can  say  that 
he  himself  is  more  prudent  or  braver,  wiser  or  more 
learned,  noble  or  greater,  than  the  noble,  the  exalted  Sur- 
rey. All  England  resounds  with  his  fame.  The  women 
repeat  with  enthusiasm  his  beautiful  sonnets  and  love- 
songs;  the  learned  are  proud  to  call  him  their  equal,  and 
the  warriors  speak  with  admiration  of  his  feats  of  arms. 
Be  just,  then,  queen!  You  have  so  highly  honored  the 
merit  of  valor;  now,  honor  the  merit  of  mind  also!  You 
have,  in  Seymour,  honored  the  warrior;  now,  in  Howard, 
honor  the  poet  and  the  man!  " 

"  I  will  do  it/'  said  Catharine,  as  with  a  charming  smile 
she  looked  into  Jane's  glowing  and  enthusiastic  counte- 
nance. "  I  will  do  it,  Jane,  but  upon  one  condition!  " 

"  And  this  condition  is— — " 

Catharine  put  her  arm  around  Jane's  neck,  and  drew 
her  close  to  her  heart.  "  That  you  confess  to  me,  that 
you  love  Henry  Howard,  whom  you  know  how  to  defend  so 
enthusiastically  and  warmly." 

Lady  Jane  gave  a  start,  and  for  a  moment  leaned  her 
head  on  the  queen's  shoulder,  exhausted. 

"Well,"  asked  she,  "do  you  confess  it?  Will  you  ac- 
knowledge that  your  proud,  cold  heart  is  obliged  to  de- 
clare itself  overcome  and  conquered?  " 

"  Yes,  I  confess  it,"  cried  Lady  Jane,  as  with  passionate 
vehemence  she  threw  herself  at  Catharine's  feet.  "  Yes,  I 
love  him— I  adore  him.  I  know  it  is  a  disdained  and  un- 
happy love;  but  what  would  you  have?  My  heart  is 
mightier  than  everything  else.  I  love  him;  he  is  my  god 
and  my  lord;  I  adore  him  as  my  savior  and  lord.  Queen, 
you  know  all  my  secret;  betray  me  if  you  will!  Tell  it  to 
my  father,  if  you  wish  him  to  curse  me.  Tell  it  to  Henry 
Howard,  if  it  pleases  you  to  hear  how  he  acoffs  at  me.  For 
he,  queen — he  loves  me  not!  " 

"  Poor  unfortunate  Jane! "  exclaimed  the  queen,  com' 
passionately. 


HENIIY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  241 

Jane  uttered  a  low  cry,  and  rose  from  her  knees.  That 
was  too  much.  Her  enemy  commiserated  her.  She,  who 
was  to  blame  for  her  sorrow — she  bemoaned  her  fate. 

Ah,  she  could  have  strangled  the  queen;  she  could 
have  plunged  a  dagger  into  her  heart,  because  she  dared  to 
commiserate  her. 

"I  have  complied  with  your  condition,  queen,"  said 
ihe,  breathing  hurriedly.  "Will  you  now  comply  with 
my  request?  " 

"  And  will  you  really  be  an  advocate  for  this  unthank- 
ful, cruel  man,  who  does  not  love  you?  Proudly  and  cold- 
ly he  passes  your  beauty  by,  and  you — you  intercede  for 
him! " 

"  Queen,  true  love  thinks  not  of  itself!  It  sacrifices  it- 
self. It  makes  no  question  of  the  reward  it  receives,  but 
only  of  the  happiness  which  it  bestows.  I  saw  in  his  pale, 
sorrowful  face,  how  much  he  suffered;  ought  I  not  to 
think  of  comforting  him?  I  approached  him,  I  addressed 
him;  I  heard  his  despairing  lamentation  over  that  misfor- 
tune, which,  however,  was  not  the  fault  of  his  activity  and 
courage,  but,  as  all  the  world  saw,  the  fault  of  his  horse, 
which  was  shy  and  stumbled.  And  as -he,  in  all  the  bitter- 
ness of  his  pain,  was  lamenting  that  you,  queen,  would 
despise  and  scorn  him,  I,  with  full  trust  in  your  noble 
and  magnanimous  heart,  promised  him  that  you  would,  at 
my  request,  yet  give  him  to-day,  before  your  whole  court,  a 
token  of  your  favor.  Catharine,  did  I  do  wrong?  " 

"  No,  Jane,  no!  You  did  right;  and  your  words  shall 
be  made  good.  But  how  shall  I  begin?  What  shall 
I  do?" 

"  The  earl  this  evening,  after  the  king  has  read  the 
Greek  scene  with  Croke,  will  recite  some  new  sonnets 
which  he  has  composed.  When  he  has  done  so,  give  him 
some  kind  of  a  present — be  it  what  it  may,  no  matter — 
as  a  token  of  your  favor." 

"  But  how,  Jane,  if  his  sonnets  deserve  no  praise  and 
no  acknowledgment?  " 


242  HKNBY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  they  do  deserve  it.  For  Henry 
Howard  is  a  noble  and  true  poet,  and  his  verses  are  full  of 
heavenly  melody  and  exalted  thoughts." 

The  queen  smiled.  "  Yes,"  said  she,  "  you  love  him 
ardently;  for  you  have  no  doubt  as  to  him.  We  will, 
therefore,  recognize  him  as  a  great  poet.  But  with  what 
shall  I  reward  him?  " 

"  Give  him  a  rose  that  you  wear  in  your  bosom — a 
rosette  that  is  fastened  to  your  dress  and  shows  your 
colors." 

"  But  alas,  Jane,  to-day  I  wear  neither  a  rose  nor  a 
rosette." 

"  Yet  you  can  wear  one,  queen.  A  rosette  is,  indeed, 
wanting  here  on  your  shoulder.  Your  purple  mantle  is 
too  negligently  fastened.  We  must  put  some  trimming 
here." 

She  went  hastily  into  the  next  room  and  returned  with 
the  box  in  which  were  kept  the  queen's  ribbons  embroid- 
ered with  gold,  and  bows  adorned  with  jewels. 

Lady  Jane  searched  and  selected,  here  and  there,  a 
long  time.  Then  she  took  the  crimson  velvet  rosette, 
which  she  herself  had  previously  thrown  into  the  box,  and 
showed  it  to  the  queen. 

"  See,  it  is  at  the  same  time  tasteful  and  rich,  for  a 
diamond  clasp  confines  it  in  the  middle.  Will  you  allow 
me  to  fasten  this  rosette  on  your  shoulder,  and  will  you 
give  it  to  the  Earl  of  Surrey?" 

"  Yes,  Jane,  I  will  give  it  to  him,  because  you  wish  it. 
But,  poor  Jane,  what  do  you  gain  by  my  doing  it?  " 

"  At  any  rate,  a  friendly  smile,  queen." 

"And  is  that  enough  for  you?  Do  you  love  him  so 
much,  then?" 

"  Yes,  I  love  him! "  said  Jane  Douglas,  with  a  sigh  of 
pain,  as  she  fastened  the  rosette  on  the  queen's  shoulder. 

"And  now,  Jane,  go  and  announce  to  the  master  of 
ceremonies  that  I  am  ready,  as  soon  as  the  king  wishes  it, 
to  resort  to  the  gallery." 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  243 

Lady  Jane  turned  to  leave  the  chamber.  But,  already 
upon  the  threshold,  she  returned  once  more. 

Forgive  me,  queen,  for  venturing  to  make  one  more 
request  of  you.  You  have,  however,  just  shown  yourself 
too  much  the  noble  and  true  friend  of  earlier  days  for  me 
not  to  venture  one  more  request." 

"  Now,  what  is  it,  poor  Jane  ?  " 

"  I  have  intrusted  my  secret  not  to  the  queen,  but 
to  Catharine  Parr,  the  friend  of  my  youth.  Will  she 
keep  it,  and  betray  to  none  my  disgrace  and  humilia- 
tion?" 

"  My  word  for  that,  Jane.  Nobody  but  God  and  our- 
selves shall  ever  know  what  we  have  spoken." 

Lady  Jane  humbly  kissed  her  hand  and  murmured  a 
few  words  of  thanks;  then  she  left  the  queen's  rooirt  to  go 
in  quest  of  the  master  of  ceremonies. 

In  the  queen's  anteroom  she  stopped  a  moment,  and 
leaned  against  the  wall,  exhausted,  and  as  it  were  crushed. 
Nobody  was  here  who  could  observe  and  listen  to  her. 
She  had  no  need  to  smile,  no  need  to  conceal,  beneath  a 
calm  and  equable  appearance,  all  those  tempestuous  and 
despairing  feelings  which  were  working  within.  She 
could  allow  her  hatred  and  her  resentment,  her  rage  and 
her  despair,  to  pour  forth  in  words  and  gestures,  in  tears 
and  imprecations,  in  sobs  and  sighs.  She  could  fall  on  her 
knees  and  beseech  God  for  grace  and  mercy,  and  call  on 
the  devil  for  revenge  and  destruction. 

When  she  had  so  done,  she  arose,  and  her  demeanor  re- 
sumed its  wonted  cold  and  calm  expression.  Only  her 
cheeks  were  still  paler;  only  a  still  gloomier  fire  darted 
from  her  eyes,  and  a  scornful  smile  played  about  her  thin, 
compressed  lips. 

She  traversed  the  rooms  and  corridors,  and  now  she 
entered  the  king's  anteroom.  As  she  observed  Gardiner, 
who  was  standing  alone  and  separated  from  the  rest  in  the 
embrasure  of  the  window,  she  went  up  to  him;  and  John 
Heywood,  who  was  still  hidden  behind  the  curtain,  shud- 


HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

dered  at  the  frightful  and  scornful  expression  of  her  fea- 
tures. 

She  offered  the  bishop  her  hand,  and  tried  to  smile. 
"  It  is  done,"  said  she,  almost  inaudibly. 

"  What!  The  queen  wears  the  rosette?  "  asked  Gardi- 
ner vivaciously. 

"  She  wears  the  rosette.,  and  will  give  it  to  him." 

"  And  the  note  is  in  it?  " 

"  It  is  concealed  under  the  diamond  clasp." 

"  Oh,  then  she  is  lost!  "  muttered  Gardiner.  "  If  the 
king  finds  this  paper,  Catharine's  death-warrant  is  signed." 

"Hush!"  said  Lady  Jane.  "See!  Lord  Hertford  is 
coming  toward  us.  Let  us  go  to  meet  him." 

They  both  left  the  window  and  walked  out  into  the 
hall. 

John  Heywood  immediately  slipped  from  behind  the 
curtain,  and,  softly  gliding  along  by  the  wall,  left  the  hall 
perceived  by  no  one. 

Outside,  he  stopped  and  reflected. 

"  I  must  see  this  conspiracy  to  the  bottom,"  said  he  to 
himself.  "  I  must  find  out  through  whom  and  by  what 
they  wish  to  destroy  her;  and  I  must  have  sure  and  unde- 
niable proof  in  my  hands,  in  order  to  be  able  to  convict 
them,  and  successfully  accuse  them  to  the  king.  There- 
fore it  is  necessary  to  be  cautious  and  prudent.  So  let  us 
consider  what  to  do.  The  simplest  thing  would  be  to  beg 
the  queen  not  to  wear  the  rosette.  But  that  is  only  to  de- 
molish the  web  for  this  time,  without,  however,  being 
able  to  kill  the  spider  that  wove  it.  So  she  must  wear 
the  rosette;  for  besides,  without  that  I  should  never  be 
able  either  to  find  out  to  whom  she  is  to  give  it.  But  the 
paper  that  is  concealed  in  the  rosette — that  I  must  have — 
that  must  not  be  in  it.  '  If  the  king  finds  this  paper, 
Catharine's  death-warrant  is  signed?  Now,  my  reverend 
priest  of  the  devil,  the  king  will  not  find  that  paper,  for 
John  Heywood  will  not  have  it  so.  But  how  shall  I  bo^in ': 
Shall  I  tell  the  queen  what  I  heard?  No!  She  would 


HENRY   VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  245 

lose  her  cheerful  spirit  and  become  embarrassed,  and  the 
embarrassment  would  be  in  the  king's  eyes  the  most  con- 
vincing proof  of  her  guilt.  No,  I  must  take  this  paper  out 
of  the  rosette  without  the  queen's  being  aware  of  it.  Bold- 
ly to  work,  then!  I  must  have  this  paper,  and  tweak  these 
hypocrites  by  the  nose.  How  it  can  be  done,  it  is  not 
clear  to  me  yet;  but  I  will  do  it — that  is  enough.  Halloo, 
forward  to  the  queen!  " 

With  precipitant  haste  he  ran  through  the  halls  and 
corridors,  while  with  a  smile  he  muttered  away  to  himself: 
"  Thank  God,  I  enjoy  the  honor  of  being  the  fool;  for  only 
the  king  and  the  fool  have  the  privilege  of  being  able  to 
enter  unannounced  every  room,  even  the  queen's." 

Catharine  was  alone  in  her  boudoir,  when  the  small 
door,  through  which  the  king  was  accustomed  to  resort  to 
her,  was  softly  opened. 

"  Oh,  the  king  is  coming! "  said  she,  walking  to  the 
door  to  greet  her  husband. 

"  Yes,  the  king  is  coming,  for  the  fool  is  already  here," 
said  John  Heywood,  who  entered  through  the  private  door. 
"Are  we  alone,  queen?  Does  nobody  overhear  us?" 

"  No,  John  Heywood,  we  are  all  alone.  What  do  you 
bring  me?" 

"  A  letter,  queen." 

"From  whom?"  asked  she,  and  a  glowing  crimson 
flitted  over  her  cheek. 

"From  whom?"  repeated  John  Heywood,  with  a  wag- 
gish smile.  "  I  do  not  know,  queen;  but  at  any  rate  it  is 
a  begging  letter;  and  without  doubt  you  would  do  well 
not  to  read  it  at  all;  for  I  bet  you,  the  shameless  writer 
of  this  letter  demands  of  you  some  impossibility — it  may  be 
a  smile,  or  a  pressure  of  the  hand,  a  lock  of  your  hair,  or 
perchance  even  a^kiss.  So,  queen,  do  not  read  the  begging 
letter  at  all." 

"  John,"  said  she,  smiling,  and  yet  trembling  with  im- 
patience, "  John,  give  me  the  letter." 

"  I  will  sell  it  to  you,  queen.     I  have  learned  that  from 


246  HENJIY    VI II.    AND    HIS    COUKT. 

the  king,  who  likewise  gives  nothing  away  generously, 
without  taking  in  return  more  than  he  gives.  So  let  us 
trade.  I  give  you  the  letter;  you  give  me  the  rosette 
which  you  wear  on  your  shoulder  there." 

"  Nay,  indeed,  John;  choose  something  else — I  cannot 
give  you  the  rosette." 

"  And  by  the  gods  be  it  sworn!  "  exclaimed  John,  with 
comic  pathos,  "  I  give  you  not  the  letter,  if  you  do  not 
give  me  the  rosette." 

"Silly  loon,"  said  the  queen,  "I  tell  you  I  cannot! 
Choose  something  else,  John;  and  I  conjure  you,  dear 
John,  give  me  the  letter." 

"  Then  only,  when  you  give  me  the  rosette.  I  have 
sworn  it  by  the  gods,  and  what  I  vow  to  them,  that  I  stick 
to!  No,  no,  queen — not  those  sullen  airs,  not  that  angry 
frown.  For  if  I  cannot  in  earnest  receive  the  rosette  as  a 
present,  then  let  us  do  like  the  Jesuits  and  papists,  who 
even  trade  with  the  dear  God,  and  snap  their  fingers  at 
Him.  I  must  keep  my  oath!  I  give  you  the  letter,  and 
you  give  me  the  rosette;  but  listen — you  only  lend  it  to 
me;  and  when  I  have  it  in  my  hand  a  moment,  I  am  gen- 
erous and  bountiful,  like  the  king,  and  I  make  you  a  pres- 
ent of  your  own  property." 

With  a  quick  motion  the  queen  tore  the  rosette  from 
her  shoulder,  and  handed  it  to  John  Heywood. 

"  Now  give  me  the  letter,  John." 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  John  Heywood  as  he  received  the 
rosette.  "  Take  it;  and  you  will  see  that  Thomas  Sey- 
mour is  my  brother." 

"  Your  brother? "  asked  Catharine  with  a  smile,  as 
with  trembling  hand  she  broke  the  seal. 

"  Yes,  my  brother,  for  he  is  a  fool!  Ah,  I  have  a  great 
many  brothers.  The  family  of  fools  is  so  very  lar^o!  " 

The  queen  no  longer  heard.  She  was  reading  the 
letter  of  her  lover.  She  had  eyes  only  for  those  lines, 
that  told  her  that  Thomas  Seymour  loved  her,  adored  her. 
and  was  pining  away  with  longing  after  her. 


HENftY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  247 

She  did  not  see  how  John  Hey  wood,  with  nimble  hand, 
unfastened  the  diamond  clasp  from  the  rosette,  and  took 
out  of  it  the  little  paper  that  was  concealed  in  the  folds  of 
the  ribbon. 

"  She  is  saved! "  murmured  he,  while  he  thrust  the 
fatal  paper  into  his  doublet,  and  fastened  the  clasp  again 
with  the  pin.  "  She  is  saved,  and  the  king  will  not  sign 
her  death-warrant  this  time." 

Catharine  had  read  the  letter  to  the  end,  and  hid  it  in 
her  bosom. 

.  "  Queen,  you  have  sworn  to  burn  up  every  letter  that  I 
bring  you  from  him;  for,  forbidden  love-letters  are  dan- 
gerous things.  One  day  they  may  find  a  tongue  and  tes- 
tify against  you!  Queen,  I  will  not  bring  you  again  an- 
other letter,  if  you  do  not  first  burn  that  one." 

"  John,  I  will  burn  it  up  when  once  I  have  really  read 
it.  Just  now  I  read  it  only  \yith  my  heart,  not  with  my 
eyes.  Allow  me,  then,  to  wear  it  on  my  heart  a  few  hours 
more." 

"  Do  you  swear  to  me  that  you  will  burn  it  up  this 
very  day?  " 

"  I  swear  it." 

"  Then  I  will  be  satisfied  this  time.  Here  is  your  ro- 
sette; and  like  the  famous  fox  in  the  fable,  that  pro- 
nounced the  grapes  sour  because  he  could  not  get  them,  I 
say,  take  your  rosette  back;  I  will  have  none  of  it." 

He  handed  the  queen  the  rosette,  and  she  smilingly 
fastened  it  on  her  shoulder  again. 

"  John,"  said  she,  with  a  bewitching  smile,  extending 
her  hand  to  him,  "  John,  when  will  you  at  length  permit 
me  to  thank  you  otherwise  than  with  words?  When  will 
you  at  length  allow  your  queen  to  reward  you,  for  all  this 
service  of  love,  otherwise  than  with  words?  " 

John  Heywood  kissed  her  hand,  and  said  mournfully: 
"  I  will  demand  a  reward  of  you  on  the  day  when  my  tears 
and  my  prayers  succeed  in  persuading  you  to  renounce  this 
wretched  and  dangerous  love.  On  that  day  I  shall  have 


24:8  ilKNRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

really  deserved  a  reward,  and  I  will  accept  it  from  you  with 
a  proud  heart." 

"Poor  John!  So,  then,  you  will  never  receive  your 
reward;  for  that  day  will  never  come! " 

"  So,  then,  I  shall  probably  receive  my  reward,  but 
from  the  king;  and  it  will  be  a  reward  whereby  one  loses 
hearing  and  sight,  and  head  to  boot.  Well,  we  shall  see! 
Till  then,  farewell,  queen!  I  must  to  the  king;  for  some- 
body might  surprise  me  here,  and  come  to  the  shrewd  con- 
clusion that  John  Hey  wood  is  not  always  a  fool,  but  some- 
times also  the  messenger  of  love!  I  kiss  the  hem  of  your 
garrrfent;  farewell,  queen! " 

He  glided  again  through  the  private  door. 

"  Now  we  will  at  once  examine  this  paper,"  said  he,  as 
he  reached  the  corridor  and  was  sure  of  being  seen  by 
no  one. 

He  drew  the  paper  out  .of  his  doublet  and  opened  it. 
"  I  do  not  know  the  handwriting,"  muttered  her,  "  but  it 
was  a  woman  that  wrote  it." 

"  The  letter  read:  "  Do  you  believe  me  now,  my  be- 
loved? I  swore  to  deliver  to  you  to-day,  in  the  presence 
of  the  king  and  all  of  my  court,  this  rosette;  and  I  have 
done  so.  For  you  I  gladly  risk  my  life,  for  you  are  my  life; 
and  still  more  beautiful  were  it  to  die  with  you,  than  to 
live  without  you.  I  live  only  when  I  rest  in  your  arms; 
and  those  dark  nights,  when  you  can  be  with  me,  are  the 
light  and  sunshine  of  my  days.  Let  us  pray  Heaven  a 
dark  night  may  soon  come;  for  such  a  night  restores  to  me 
the  loved  one,  and  to  you,  your  happy  wife,  Geraldine." 

"Geraldine!  who  is  Geraldine?"  muttered  John  Hey- 
wood,  slipping  the  paper  into  his  doublet  again.  "  I  must 
disentangle  this  web  of  lying  and  deceit.  I  must  know 
what  all  this  means.  For  this  is  more  than  a  conspiracy — 
a  false  accusation.  It  concerns,  as  it  seems,  a  reality. 
This  letter  the  queen  is  to  give  to  a  man;  and  in  it,  sweet 
recollections,  happy  nights,  are  spoken  of.  So  he  who 
this  letter  is  in  league  with  them  against  Catha- 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  249 

rine,  and  I  dare  say  her  worst  enemy,  for  he  makes  use  of 
love  against  her.  Some  treachery  or  knavery  is  concealed 
behind  this.  Either  the  man  to  whom  this  letter  is  ad- 
dressed is  deceived — and  he  is  unintentionally  a  tool  iu 
the  hands  of  the  papists — or  he  is  in  league  with  them, 
and  has  given  himself  up  to  the  villainy  of  playing  the 
part  of  a  lover  to  the  queen.  But  who  can  he  be?  Per- 
chance, Thomas  Seymour.  It  were  possible;  for  he  has  a 
cold  and  deceitful  heart,  and  he  would  be  capable  of  such 
treachery.  But  woe  be  to  him  if  it  is  he !  Then  it  will  be  / 
who  accuses  him  to  the  king;  and,  by  God!  his  head  shall 
fall!  Xow  away  to  the  king!  " 

Just  as  he  entered  the  king's  anteroom,  the  door  of  the 
cabinet  opened,  and  the  Duchess  of  Eichmond,  accom- 
panied by  Earl  Douglas,  walked  out. 

Lady  Jane  and  Gardiner  were  standing,  as  if  by  acci- 
dent, near  the  door. 

"  Well,  have  we  attained  our  end  there  also?  "  asked 
Gardiner. 

"We  have  attained  it,"  said  Earl  Douglas.  "The 
duchess  has  accused  her  brother  of  a  liaison  with  the 
queen.  ^She  has  deposed  that  he  sometimes  leaves  the  pal- 
ace by  night,  and  does  not  return  to  it  before  morning. 
She  has  declared  that  for  four  nights  she  herself  dogged 
her  brother  and  saw  him  as  he  entered  the  wing  of  the 
castle  occupied  by  the  queen;  and  one  of  the  queen's  maids 
has  communicated  to  the  duchess  that  the  queen  was  not 
in  her  room  on  that  night." 

"  And  the  king  listened  to  the  accusation,  and  did  not 
throttle  you  in  his  wrath!  " 

"  He  is  just  in  that  dull  state  of  rage  in  which  the  lava 
that  the  crater  will  afterward  pour  forth,  is  just  prepared. 
As  yet  all  is  quiet,  but  be  sure  there  will  be  an  eruption, 
and  the  stream  of  red-hot  lava  will  busy  those  who  have 
dared  excite  the  god  Vulcan/' 

"  And  does  he  know  about  the  rosette?  "  asked  Lady 

Jane. 

17 


250  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

"  He  knows  everything.  And  until  that  moment  he 
will  allow  no  one  to  suspect  his  wrath  and  fury.  He  says 
he  will  make  the  queen  perfectly  secure,  in  order  to  get 
into  his  hands  thereby  sure  proof  of  her  guilt.  Well,  we 
will  furnish  him  this  evidence;  and  hence  it  follows  that 
the  queen  is  inevitably  lost." 

"  But  hark!  The  doors  are  opened,  and  the  master  of 
ceremonies  comes  to  summon  us  to  the  golden  gallery." 

"Just  walk  in,"  muttered  John  Heywood,  gliding 
along  behind  them.  "  I  am  still  here;  and  I  will  be  the 
mouse  that  gnaws  the  net  in  which  you  want  to  catch  my 
noble-minded  lioness." 


CHAPTER   XXV. 
THE  QUEEN'S  ROSETTE. 

THE  golden  gallery,  in  which  the  tourney  of  the  poets 
was  to  take  place,  presented  to-day  a  truly  enchanting  and 
fairy-like  aspect.  Mirrors  of  gigantic  size,  set  in  broad 
gilt  frames,  ornamented  with  the  most  perfect  carved 
work,  covered  the  walls,  and  threw  back,  a  thousand  times 
reflected,  the  enormous  chandeliers  which,  with  their  hun- 
dreds and  hundreds  of  candles,  shed  the  light  of  day  in 
the  vast  hall.  Here  and  there  were  seen,  arranged  in 
front  of  the  mirrors,  clusters  of  the  rarest  and  choicest 
flowers,  which  poured  through  the  hall  their  fragrance, 
stupefying  and  yet  so  enchanting,  and  outshone  in  bril- 
liancy of  colors  even  the  Turkish  carpet,  which  stretched 
through  the  whole  room  and  changed  the  floor  into  one  im- 
mense flower-bed.  Between  the  clumps  of  flowers  were 
seen  tables  with  golden  vases,  in  which  were  refreshing 
beverages;  while  at  the  other  end  of  the  enormous  gallery 
stood  a  gigantic  sideboard,  which  contained  the  eboiceil 
and  rarest  dishes.  At  present  the  doors  of  the  H«!C- 


HEXRY    VIII.    AXD    HIS    COURT.  251 

board,  which,  when  open,  formed  a  room  of  itself,  were 
closed. 

They  had  not  yet  come  to  the  material  enjoyments; 
they  were  still  occupied  in  absorbing  the  spiritual.  The 
brilliant  and  select  company  that  filled  the  hall  was  still 
for  some  time  condemned  to  be  silent,  and  to  shut  up  with- 
in them  their  laughter  and  gossip,  their  backbiting  and 
slander,  their  flattery  and  hypocrisy. 

Just  now  a  pause  ensued.  The  king,  with  Croke,  had 
recited  to  his  court  a  scene  from  "  Antigone  ";  and  they 
were  just  taking  breath  from  the  wonderful  and  exalted 
enjoyment  of  having  just  heard  a  language  of  which  they 
understood  not  a  word,  but  which  they  found  to  be  very 
beautiful,  since  the  king  admired  it. 

Henry  the  Eighth  had  again  leaned  back  on  his  golden 
throne,  and,  panting,  rested  from  his  prodigious  exertion; 
and  while  he  rested  and  dreamed,  an  invisible  band  played 
a  piece  of  music  composed  by  the  king  himself,  and  which, 
with  its  serious  and  solemn  movement,  strangely  contrast- 
ed with  this  room  so  brilliant  and  cheerful — with  this 
splendid,  laughing  and  jesting  assembly. 

For  the  king  had  bidden  them  amuse  themselves  and 
be  gay;  to  give  themselves  up  to  unrestrained  chit-chat. 
It  was,  therefore,  natural  for  them  to  laugh,  and  to  appear 
not  to  notice  the  king's  exhaustion  and  repose. 

Besides,  they  had  not  for  a  long  time  seen  Henry  so 
cheerful,  so  full  of  youthful  life,  so  sparkling  with  wit  and 
humor,  as  on  this  evening.  His  mouth  was  overflowing 
with  jests  that  made  the  gentlemen  laugh,  and  the  beauti- 
ful, brilliant  women  blush,  and,  above  all,  the  young 
queen,  who  sat  by  him  on  the  rich  and  splendid  throne, 
and  now  and  then  threw  stolen  and  longing  glances  at  her 
lover,  for  whom  she  would  willingly  and  gladly  have  given 
her  royal  crown  and  her  throne. 

When  the  king  saw  how  Catharine  blushed,  he  turned 
to  her,  and  in  his  tenderest  tone  begged  her  pardon  for  his 
jest,  which,  however,  in  its  saucincss,  served  only  to  make 


252  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

his  queen  still  more  beautiful,  still  more  bewitching.  His 
words  were  then  so  tender  and  heartfelt,  his  looks  so  full  of 
love  and  admiration,  that  nobody  could  doubt  but  that  the 
queen  was  in  highest  favor  with  her  husband,  and  that  he 
loved  her  most  tenderly. 

Only  the  few  who  knew  the  secret  of  this  tenderness  of 
the  king,  so  open  and  so  unreservedly  displayed,  compre- 
hended fully  the  danger  which  threatened  the  queen;  for 
the  king  was  never  more  to  be  dreaded  than  when  he  flat- 
tered; and  on  no  one  did  his  wrath  fall  more  crushingly 
than  on  him  whom  he  had  jusf  kissed  and  assured  of  his 
favor. 

This  was  what  Earl  Douglas  said  to  himself,  when  he 
saw  with  what  a  cordial  look  Henry  the  Eighth  chatted 
with  his  consort. 

Behind  the  throne  of  the  royal  pair  was  seen  John 
Heywood,  in  his  fantastic  and  dressy  costume,  with  his 
face  at  once  noble  and  cunning;  and  the  king  just  then 
broke  out  into  loud,  resounding  kughter  at  his  sarcastic 
and  satirical  observations. 

"King,  your  laugh  does  not  please  me  to-day/*  said 
John  Heywood,  earnestly.  "It  smacks  of  gall.  Do  you 
not  find  it  so,  queen?  " 

The  queen  was  startled  from  her  sweet  reveries,  and 
that  was  what  John  Heywood  had  wished.  He,  therefore, 
repeated  his  question. 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  she;  "  I  find  the  king  to-day  quite 
like  the  sun.  He  is  radiant  and  bright,  like  it." 

"  Queen,  you  do  not  mean  the  sun,  but  the  full  moon," 
said  John  Heywood.  "  But  only  see,  Henry,  how  cheer- 
fully Earl  Archibald  Douglas  over  there  is  chatting  with 
the  Duchess  of  Richmond!  I  love  that  good  earl.  He  al- 
ways appears  like  a  blind-worm,  which  is  just  in  the  notion 
of  stinging  some  one  on  the  heel,  and  hence  it  comes  that, 
when  near  the  earl,  I  always  transform  myself  into  a  crane. 
I  stand  on  one  leg;  because  I  am  then  sure  to  have  the 
other  at  least  safe  from  the  earl's  sting.  King,  were  I  like 


HENEY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  253 

you,  I  would  not  have  those  killed  that  the  blind-worm 
has  stung;  but  I  would  root  out  the  blind-worms,  that  the 
feet  of  honorable  men  might  be  secure  from  them." 

The  king  cast  at  him  a  quick,  searching  look,  which 
John  Heywood  answered  with  a  smile. 

"  Kill  the  blind- worms,  King  Henry,"  said  he;  "  and 
when  you  are  once  at  work  destroying  vermin,  it  will  do 
no  harm  if  you  once  more  give  these  priests  also  a  good 
kick.  It  is  now  a  long  time  since  we  burnt  any  of  them, 
and  they  are  again  becoming  arrogant  and  malicious,  as 
they  always  were  and  always  will  be.  I  see  even  the  pious 
and  meek  bishop  of  Winchester,  the  noble  Gardiner,  who  is 
entertaining  himself  with  Lady  Jane  over -there,  smiling 
very  cheerfully,  and  that  is  a  bad  sign;  for  Gardiner  smiles 
only  when  he  has  again  caught  a  poor  soul,  and  prepared  it 
as  a  breakfast  for  his  lord.  I  do  not  mean  you,  king,  but 
his  lord — the  devil.  For  the  devil  is  always  hungry  for 
noble  human  souls;  and  to  him  who  catches  one  for  him 
he  gives  indulgence  for  his  sins  for  an  hour.  Therefore 
Gardiner  catches  so  many  souls;  for  since  he  sins  every 
hour,  every  hour  he  needs  indulgence." 

"  You  are  very  spiteful  to-day,  John  Heywood,"  said 
the  queen,  smiling,  while  the  king  fixed  his  eyes  on  the 
ground,  thoughtful  and  musing. 

John  Heywood's  words  had  touched  the  sore  place  of 
his  heart,  and,  in  spite  of  himself,  filled  his  suspicious  soul 
with  new  doubts. 

He  mistrusted  not  merely  the  accused,  but  the  ac- 
cusers also;  and  if  he  punished  the  one  as  criminals,  he 
would  have  willingly  punished  the  others  as  informants. 

He  asked  himself:  "  What  aim  had  Earl  Douglas  and 
Gardiner  in  accusing  the  queen;  and  why  had  they  star- 
tled him  out  of  his  quiet  and  confidence  ?  "  At  that  mo- 
ment, when  he  looked  on  his  beautiful  wife,  who  sat  by 
him  in  such  serene  tranquillity,  unembarrassed  and  smil- 
ing, he  felt  a  deep  anger  fill  his  heart,  not  against  Cath- 
arine, but  against  Jane,  who  accused  her. 


254:  HEXRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

She  was  so  lovely  and  beautiful!  Why  did  they  envy 
him  her?  Why  did  they  not  leave  him  in  his  sweet  de- 
lusion? But  perhaps  she  was  not  guilty.  No,  she  was 
not.  The  eye  of  a  culprit  is  not  thus  bright  and  clear. 
The  air  of  infidelity  is  not  thus  unembarrassed — of  such 
maidenly  delicacy. 

Moreover,  the  king  was  exhausted  and  disgusted.  One 
can  become  satiated  even  with  cruelty;  and,  at  this  hour, 
Henry  felt  completely  surfeited  with  bloodshed. 

His  heart — for,  in  such  moments  of  mental  relaxation 
and  bodily  enfeeblement,  the  king  even  had  a  heart — his 
heart  was  already  in  the  mood  of  pronouncing  the  word 
pardon,  when  his  eye  fell  on  Henry  Howard,  who,  with 
his  father,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  and  surrounded  by  a  circle 
of  brilliant  and  noble  lords,  was  standing  not  far  from  the 
royal  throne. 

The  king  felt  a  deadly  stab  in  his  breast,  and  his  eyes 
darted  lightning  over  toward  that  group. 

How  proud  and  imposing  the  figure  of  the  noble  earl 
looked;  how  high  he  overtopped  all  others;  how  noble  and 
handsome  his  countenance;  how  kingly  was  his  bearing 
and  whole  appearance! 

Henry  must  admit  all  this;  and  because  he  must  do  so, 
he  hated  him. 

Nay!  no  mercy  for  Catharine!  If  what  her  accusers 
had  told  him  were  true — if  they  could  give  him  the  proofs 
of  the  queen's  guilt,  then  she  was  doomed.  And  how- 
could  he  doubt  it?  Had  they  not  told  him  that  in  the  ro- 
sette, which  the  queen  woiild  give  Earl  Surrey,  was  con- 
tained a  love-letter  from  Catharine,  which  he  would  find? 
Had  not  Earl  Surrey,  in  a  confidential  hour,  yesterday  im- 
parted this  to  his  sister,  the  Duchess  of  Richmond,  when  he 
wished  to  bribe  her  to  be  the  messenger  of  love  between  the 
queen  and  himself?  Had  she  not  accused  the  queen  of  hav- 
ing meetings  by  night  with  the  earl  in  the  deserted  tower? 

Nay,  no  compassion  for  his  fair  queen,  if  Henry  How- 
ard was  her  lover. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  255 

He  must  again  look  over  at  his  hated  enemy.  There 
he  still  stood  by  his  father,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk.  How 
sprightly  and  gracefully  the  old  duke  moved;  how  slim  his 
form;  and  how  lofty  and  imposing  his  bearing!  The  king 
was  younger  than  the  duke;  and  yet  he  was  fettered  to  his 
truckle-chair;  yet  he  sat  on  his  throne  like  an  immovable 
colossus,  while  lie  moved  freely  and  lightly,  and  obeyed  his 
own  will,  not  necessity.  Henry  could  have  crushed  him — 
this  proud,  arrogant  earl,  who  was  a  free  man,  whilst  his 
king  was  nothing  but  a  prisoner  to  his  own  flesh,  a  slave  of 
his  unwieldy  body. 

"  I  will  exterminate  it — this  proud,  arrogant  race  of 
Howards!  "  muttered  the  king,  as  he  turned  with  a  friend- 
ly smile  to  the  Earl  of  Surrey. 

"  You  have  promised  us  some  of  your  poems,  cousin! " 
said  he.  "  So  let  us  now  enjoy  them;  for  you  see,  indeed, 
how  impatiently  all  the  beautiful  women  look  on  Eng- 
land's noblest  and  greatest  poet,  and  how  very  angry  with 
me  they  would  be  if  I  still  longer  withhold  this  enjoyment 
from  them!  Even  my  fair  queen  is  full  of  longing  after 
your  songs,  so  rich  in  fancy;  for  you  well  know,  Howard, 
she  loves  poetry,  and,  above  all  things,  yours." 

Catharine  had  scarcely  heard  what  the  king  said.  Her 
looks  had  encountered  Seymour's,  and  their  eyes  were  fixed 
on  each  other's.  But  she  had  then  cast  down  to  the  floor 
her  eyes,  still  completely  filled  with  the  sight  of  her  lover, 
in  order  to  think  of  him,  since  she  no  longer  dared  gaze  at 
him. 

When  the  king  called  her  name,  she  started  up  and 
looked  at  him  inquiringly.  She  had  not  heard  what  he 
had  said  to  her. 

"Not  even  for  a  moment  does  she  look  toward  me!" 
said  Henry  Howard  to  himself.  "Oh,  she  loves  me  not! 
or  at  least  her  understanding  is  mightier  than  her  love. 
Oh,  Catharine,  Catharine,  fearest  thou  death  so  much  that 
thou  canst  on  that  account  deny  thy  lovfe?  " 

With  desperate  haste  he  drew  out  his  portfolio.     "  I 


256  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

will  compel  her  to  look  at  me,  to  think  of  me,  to  remember 
her  oath/'  thought  he.  "  Woe  to  her,  if  she  does  not  ful- 
fil it — if  she  gives  me  not  the  rosette,  which  she  promised 
me  with  so  solemn  a  vow!  If  she  does  it  not,  then  I  will 
break  this  dreadful  silence,  and  before  her  king,  and  be- 
fore her  court,  accuse  her  of  treachery  to  her  love.  Then, 
at  least,  she  will  not  be  able  to  cast  me  off;  for  we  shall 
mount  the  scaffold  together." 

"Does  my  exalted  queen  allow  me  to  begin?"  asked 
he  aloud,  wholly  forgetting  that  the  king  had  already 
given  him  the  order  to  do  so,  and  that  it  was  he  only  who 
could  grant  such  a  permission. 

Catharine  looked  at  him  in  astonishment.  Then  her 
glance  fell  on  Lady  Jane  Douglas,  who  was  gazing  over  at 
her  with  an  imploring  expression.  The  queen  smiled;  for 
she  now  remembered  that  it  was  Jane's  beloved  who  had 
spoken  to  her,  and  that  she  had  promised  the  poor  young 
girl  to  raise  again  the  dejected  Earl  of  Surrey  and  to  be 
gracious  to  him. 

"  Jane  is  right,"  thought  she;  "  he  appears  to  be  deep- 
ly depressed  and  suffering.  Ah,  it  must  be  very  painful 
to  see  those  whom  one  loves  suffering.  I  will,  therefore, 
comply  with  Jane's  request,  for  she  says  this  might  revive 
the  earl." 

With  a  smile  she  bowed  to  Howard.  "  I  beg  you,"  said 
she,  "  to  lend  our  festival  its  fairest  ornament — to  adorn 
it  with  the  fragrant  flowers  of  your  poesy.  You  see  we  are 
all  burning  with  desire  to  hear  your  verses." 

The  king  shook  with  rage,  and  a  crushing  word  was  al- 
ready poised  upon  his  lip.  But  he  restrained  himself.  He 
wanted  to  have  proofs  first;  he  wanted  to  see  them  not 
merely  accused,  but  doomed  also;  and  for  that  he  needed 
proofs  of  their  guilt. 

Henry  Howard  now  approached  the  throne  of  the  royal 
pair,  and  with  beaming  looks,  with  animated  countenance, 
with  a  voice  trembling  with  emotion,  he  read  his  love-song 
to  the  fair  Geraldine. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  257 

A  murmur  of  applause  arose  when  he  had  read  his 
first  sonnet.  The  king  only  looked  gloomily,  with  fixed 
eyes;  the  queen  alone  remained  uninterested  and  cold. 

"  She  is  a  complete  actress,"  thought  Henry  Howard, 
in  the  madness  of  his  pain.  "  Not  a  muscle  of  her  face 
stirs;  and  yet  this  sonnet  must  remind  her  of  the  fairest 
and  most  sacred  moment  of  our  love." 

The  queen  remained  unmoved  and  cold.  But  had 
Henry  Howard  looked  at  Lady  Jane  Douglas,  he  would 
have  seen  how  she  turned  pale  and  blushed;  how  she 
smiled  with  rapture,  and  how,  nevertheless,  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears. 

Earl  Surrey,  however,  saw  nothing  hut  the  queen;  and 
the  sight  of  her  made  him  tremble  with  rage  and  pain. 
His  eyes  darted  lightning;  his  countenance  glowed  with 
passion;  his  whole  being  was  in  desperate,  enthusiastic 
excitement.  At  that  moment  he  would  have  gladly 
breathed  out  his  life  at  Geraldine's  feet,  if  she  would  only 
recognize  him — if  she  would  only  have  the  courage  to  call 
him  her  beloved. 

But  her  smiling  calmness,  her  friendly  coolness, 
brought  him  to  despair. 

He  crumpled  the  paper  in  his  hand;  the  letters  danced 
before  his  eyes;  he  could  read  no  more. 

But  he  would  not  remain  mute,  either.  Like  the 
dying  swan,  he  would  breathe  out  his  pain  in  a  last  song, 
and  give  sound  and  words  to  his  despair  and  his  agony. 
He  could  no  longer  read;  but  he  improvised. 

Like  a  glowing  stream  of  lava,  the  words  flowed  from 
his  lips;  in  fiery  dithyrambic,  in  impassioned  hymns,  he 
poured  forth  his  love  and  pain.  The  genius  of  poesy  hov- 
ered over  him  and  lighted  up  his  noble  and  thoughtful 
brow. 

He  was  radiantly  beautiful  in  his  enthusiasm;  and 
even  the  queen  felt  herself  carried  away  by  his  words. 

His  plaints  of  love,  his  longing  pains,  his  rapture  and 
his  sad  fancies,  found  an  echo  in  her  heart. 


258  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS   COURT. 

She  understood  him;  for  she  felt  the  same  joy,  the 
same  sorrow  and  the  same  rapture;  only  she  did  not  feel 
all  this  for  him. 

But,  as  we  have  said,  he  enchanted  her;  the  current  of 
his  passion  carried  her  away.  She  wept  at  his  laments; 
she  smiled  at  his  hymns  of  joy. 

When  Henry  Howard  at  length  ceased,  profound  si- 
lence reigned  in  the  vast  and  brilliant  hall. 

All  faces  betrayed  deep  emotion;  and  this  universal 
silence  was  the  poet's  fairest  triumph;  for  it  showed  that 
envy  and  jealousy  were  dumb,  and  that  scorn  itself  could 
find  no  words. 

A  momentary  pause  ensued;  it  resembled  that  sultry, 
ominous  stillness  which  is  wont  to  precede  the  bursting  of 
a  tempest;  when  Nature  stops  a  moment  in  breathless 
stillness,  to  gather  strength  for  the  uproar  of  the  storm. 

It  was  a  significant,  an  awful  pause;  but  only  a  few 
understood  its  meaning. 

Lady  Jane  leaned  against  the  wall,  completely  shat- 
tered and  breathless.  She  felt  that  the  sword  was  hang- 
ing over  their  heads,  and  that  it  would  destroy  her  if  it 
struck  her  beloved. 

Earl  Douglas  and  the  Bishop  of  Winchester  had  invol- 
untarily drawn  near  each  other,  and  stood  there  hand  in 
hand,  united  for  this  unholy  struggle;  while  John  Hey- 
wood  had  crept  behind  the  king's  throne,  and  in  his  sar- 
castic manner  whispered  in  his  ear  some  epigrams,  that 
made  the  king  smile  in  spite  of  himself. 

But  now  the  queen  arose  from  her  seat,  and  beckoned 
Henry  Howard  nearer  to  her. 

"My  lord,"  said  she,  almost  with  solemnity,  "as  a 
queen  and  as  a  woman  I  thank  you  for  the  noble  and  sub- 
lime lyrics  which  you  have  composed  in  honor  of  a  woman! 
And  for  that  the  grace  of  my  king  has  exalted  me  to  be 
the  first  woman  in  England,  it  becomes  me,  in  the  name 
of  all  women,  to  return  to  you  my  thanks.  To  the  poet  if 
due  a  reward  other  than  that  of  the  warrior.  To  the  vie- 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  259 

tor  on  the  battle-field  is  awarded  a  laurel  crown.  But  you 
have  gained  a  victory  not  less  glorious,  for  you  have  con- 
quered hearts!  We  acknowledge  ourselves  vanquished, 
and  in  the  name  of  all  these  noble  women,  I  proclaim  you 
their  knight!  In  token  of  which,  accept  this  rosette,  my 
lord.  It  entitles  you  to  wear  the  queen's  colors;  it  lays 
you  under  obligation  to  be  the  knight  of  all  women!  " 

She  loosened  the  rosette  from  her  shoulder,  and  hand- 
ed it  to  the  earl. 

He  had  sunk  on  one  knee  before  her,  and  already  ex- 
tended his  hand  to  receive  this  precious  and  coveted 
pledge. 

But  at  this  moment  the  king  arose,  and,  with  an  im- 
perious gesture,  held  back  the  queen's  hand. 

"  Allow  me,  my  lady,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  quivering 
with  rage — "allow  me  first  to  examine  this  rosette,  and 
convince  myself  that  it  is  worth  enough  to  be  presente'd  to 
the  noble  earl  as  his  sole  reward.  Let  me  see  this  ro- 
sette." 

Catharine  looked  with  astonishment  into  that  face 
convulsed  with  passion  and  fury,  but  without  hesitation 
she  handed  him  the  rosette. 

"We  are  lost!"  murmured  Earl  Surrey,  while  Earl 
Douglas  and  Gardiner  exchanged  with  each  other  looks  of 
triumph;  and  Jane  Douglas  murmured  in  her  trembling 
heart  prayers  of  anxiety  and  dread,  scarcely  hearing  the 
malicious  and  exultant  words  which  the  Duchess  of  Rich- 
mond was  whispering  in  her  ear. 

The  king  held  the  rosette  in  his  hand  and  examined  it. 
But  his  hands  trembled  so  much  that  he  was  unable  to  un- 
fasten the  clasp  which  held  it  together. 

He,  therefore,  handed  it  to  John  Heywood.  "  These 
diamonds  are  poor,"  said  he,  in  a  curt,  dry  tone.  "  Un- 
fasten the  clasp,  fool;  we  will  replace  it  with  this  pin  here. 
Then  will  the  present  gain  for  the  earl  a  double  value;  for 
it  will  come  at  the  same  time  from  me  and  from  the 
queen." 


260  HENRY    Tin.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

"  How  gracious  you  are  to-day!  "  said  John  Hey  wood, 
smiling — "  as  gracious  as  the  cat,  that  plays  a  little  longer 
with  the  mouse  before  she  devours  it." 

"  Unfasten  the  clasp!"  exclaimed  the  king,  in  a  thun- 
dering voice,  no  longer  able  to  conceal  his  rage.  Slowly 
John  Heywood  unfastened  the  clasp  from  the  ribbon.  He 
did  it  with  intentional  slowness  and  deliberation;  he  let 
the  king  see  all  his  movements,  every  turn  of  his  fingers; 
and  it  delighted  him  to  hold  those  who  had  woven  this 
plot  in  dreadful  suspense  and  expectation. 

Whilst  he  appeared  perfectly  innocent  and  unembar- 
rassed, his  keen,  piercing  glance  ran  over  the  whole  as- 
sembly, and  he  noticed  well  the  trembling  impatience  of 
Gardiner  and  Earl  Douglas;  and  it  did  not  escape  him  how 
pale  Lady  Jane  was,  and  how  full  of  expectation  were 
the  intent  features  of  the  Duchess  of  Richmond. 

"  They  are  the  ones  with  whom  this  conspiracy  origi- 
nated," said  John  Heywood  to  himself.  "  But  I  will  keep 
silence  till  I  can  one  day  convict  them." 

"  There,  here  is  the  clasp! "  said  he  then  aloud  to  the 
king.  "  It  stuck  «s  tightly  in  the  ribbon  as  malice  in  the 
hearts  of  priests  and  courtiers! " 

The  king  snatched  the  ribbon  out  of  his  hand,  and  ex- 
amined it  by  drawing  it  through  his  fingers. 

"  Nothing!  nothing  at  all! "  said  he,  gnashing  his 
teeth;  and  now,  deceived  in  his  expectations  and  suppo- 
sitions, he  could  no  longer  muster  strength  to  withstand 
that  roaring  torrent  of  wrath  which  overflowed  his  heart. 
The  tiger  was  again  aroused  in  him;  he  had  calmly  waited 
for  the  moment  when  the  promised  prey  would  be  brought 
to  him;  now,  when  it  seemed  to  be  escaping  him,  his  sav- 
age and  cruel  disposition  started  up  within  him.  The 
tiger  panted  and  thirsted  for  blood;  and  that  he  was  not 
to  get  it,  made  him  raging  with  fury. 

With  a  wild  movement  he  threw  the  rosette  on  the 
ground,  and  raised  his  arm  menacingly  toward  Henry 
Howard. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  261 

"  Dare  not  to  touch  that  rosette,"  cried  he,  in  a  voice 
of  thunder,  "  before  you  have  exculpated  yourself  from  the 
guilt  of  which  you  are  accused." 

Earl  Surrey  looked  him  steadily  and  boldly  in  the  eye. 
"Have  I  been  accused,  then?"  asked  he.  "Then  I  de- 
mand, first  of  all,  that  I  be  confronted  with  my  accusers, 
and  that  my  fault  be  named!  " 

"Ha,  traitor!  Do  you  dare  to  brave  me?"  yelled  the 
king,  stamping  furiously  with  his  foot.  "Well,  now,  I 
will  be  your  accuser  and  I  will  be  your  judge!  " 

"  And  surely,  my  king  and  husband,  you  will  be  a  right- 
eous judge,"  said  Catharine,  as  she  inclined  imploringly 
toward  the  king  and  grasped  his  hand.  "  You  will  not 
condemn  the  noble  Earl  Surrey  without  having  heard  him; 
and  if  you  find  him  guiltless,  you  will  punish  his  ac- 
cusers? " 

But  this  intercession  of  the  queen  made  the  king  rag- 
ing. He  threw  her  hand  from  him,  and  gazed  at  her  with 
looks  of  such  flaming  wrath,  that  she  involuntarily  trem- 
bled. 

"  Traitoress  yourself!  "  yelled  he,  wildly.  "  Speak  not 
of  innocence — you  who  are  yourself  guilty;  and  before  you 
dare  defend  the  earl,  defend  yourself! " 

Catharine  rose  from  her  seat  and  looked  with  flashing 
eyes  into  the  king's  face  blazing  with  wrath.  "  King 
Henry  of  England,"  said  she,  solemnly,  "  you  have  openly, 
before  your  whole  court,  accused  your  queen  of  a  crime.  I 
now  demand  that  you  name  it! " 

She  was  of  wondrous  beauty  in  her  proud,  bold  bearing 
— in  her  imposing,  majestic  tranquillity. 

The  decisive  moment  had  come,  and  she  was  conscious 
that  her  life  and  her  future  were  struggling  with  death 
for  the  victory. 

She  looked  over  to  Thomas  Seymour,  and  their  eyes 
met.  She  saw  how  he  laid  his  hand  on  his  sword,  and 
nodded  to  her  a  smiling  greeting. 

"He  will  defend  me;  and  before  he  will  suffer  me  to 


262  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

be  dragged  to  the  Tower,  he  himself  will  plunge  his  sword 
into  my  breast,"  thought  she,  and  a  joyous,  triumphant 
assurance  filled  her  whole  heart. 

She  saw  nothing  but  him,  who  had  sworn  to  die  with 
her  when  the  decisive  moment  came.  She  looked  with  a 
smile  on  the  blade  which  he  had  already  half  drawn  from 
its  scabbard;  and  she  hailed  it  as  a  dear,  long-yearned-for 
friend. 

She  saw  not  that  Henry  Howard  also  had  lain  his  hand 
on  his  sword;  that  he,  too,  was  ready  for  her  defence, 
firmly  resolved  to  slay  the  king  himself,  before  his  mouth 
uttered  the  sentence  of  death  over  the  queen. 

But  Lady  Jane  Douglas  saw  it.  She  understood  how 
to  read  the  earl's  countenance;  she  felt  that  he  was  ready 
to  go  to  death  for  his  beloved;  and  it  filled  her  heart  at 
once  with  woe  and  rapture. 

She,  too,  was  now  firmly  resolved  to  follow  her  heart 
and  her  love;  and,  forgetting  all  else  besides  these,  she 
hastened  forward,  and  was  now  standing  by  Henry 
Howard. 

"  Be  prudent,  Earl  Surrey,"  said  she,  in  a  low  whisper. 
"Take  your  hand  from  your  sword.  The  queen,  by  my 
mouth,  commands  you  to  do  so!  " 

Henry  Howard  looked  at  her  astonished  and  surprised; 
but  he  let  his  hand  slip  from  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  and 
again  looked  toward  the  queen. 

She  had  repeated  her  demand;  she  had  once  more  de- 
manded of  the  king — who,  speechless  and  completely  over- 
come with  anger,  had  fallen  back  into  his  seat — to  name 
the  crime  of  which  she  was  accused. 

"  Now,  then,  my  queen,  you  demand  it,  and  you  shall 
hear  it,"  cried  he.  "  You  want  to  know  the  crime  of 
which  you  are  accused?  Answer  me  then,  my  lady!  They 
accuse  you  of  not  always  staying  at  night  in  your  sleeping- 
room.  It  is  alleged  that  you  sometimes  leave  it  for  many 
hours;  and  that  none  of  your  women  accompanied  you 
when  you  glided  through  the  corridors  and  up  the  secret 


HEXRY    VIII.    AND    HIR    COUKT.  263 

stairs  to  the  lonely  tower,  in  which  was  waiting  for  you 
your  lover,  who  at  the  same  time  entered  the  tower 
through  the  small  street  door." 

"  He  knows  all!  "  muttered  Henry  Howard;  and  again 
he  laid  his  hand  on  his  sword,  and  was  about  to  approach 
the  queen. 

Lady  Jane  held  him  back.  "Wait  for  the  issue," 
said  she.  "  There  is  still  time  to  die!  " 

"He  knows  all!"  thought  the  queen  also;  and  now 
she  felt  within  herself  the  daring  courage  to  risk  all,  that 
at  least  she  might  not  stand  there  a  traitoress  in  the  eyes 
of  her  lover. 

"  He  shall  not  believe  that  I  have  been  untrue  to  him," 
thought  she.  "  I  will  tell  all — confess  all,  that  he  may 
know  why  I  went  and  whither." 

"Now  answer,  my  Lady  Catharine!"  thundered  the 
king.  "  Answer,  and  tell  me  whether  you  have  been 
falsely  accused.  Is  it  true  that  you,  eight  days  ago,  in  the 
night  between  Monday  and  Tuesday,  left  your  sleeping- 
room  at  the  hour  of  midnight,  and  went  secretly  to  the 
lonely  tower?  Is  it  true  that  you  received  there  a  man 
who  is  your  lover?  " 

The  queen  looked  at  him  in  angry  pride.  "Henry, 
Henry,  woe  to  you,  that  you  dare  thus  insult  your  own 
wife! "  cried  she. 

"Answer  me!  You  were  not  on  that  night  in  your 
sleeping-room?  " 

"No,"  said  Catharine,  with  dignified  composure,  "I 
was  not  there." 

The  king  sank  back  in  his  seat,  and  a  real  roar  of  fury 
sounded  from  his  lips.  It  made  the  women  turn  pale,  and 
even  the  men  felt  themselves  tremble. 

Catharine  alone  had  not  heeded  it  at  all;  she  alone  had 
heard  nothing  save  that  cry  of  amazement  which  Thomas 
Seymour  uttered;  and  she  saw  only  the  angry  and  up- 
braiding looks  which  he  threw  across  at  her. 

She  answered  these  looks  with  a  friendly  and  confident 


JiENRY    VtU.   A.\D   HIS   COURT. 

smile,  and  pressed  both  her  hands  to  her  heart,  as  she 
looked  at  him. 

"I  will  justify  myself  before  him  at  least,"  thought 
she. 

The  king  had  recovered  from  his  first  shock.  He  again 
raised  himself  up,  and  his  countenance  now  exhibited  a 
fearful,  threatening  coolness. 

"  You  confess,  then,"  asked  he,  "  that  you  were  not  in 
your  sleeping-room  on  that  night?  " 

"  I  have  already  said  so,"  exclaimed  Catharine,  impa- 
tiently. 

The  king  compressed  his  lips  so  violently,  that  they 
bled.  "And  a  man  was  with  you?"  asked  he — "a  man 
with  whom  you  made  an  assignation,  and  whom  you  re- 
ceived in  the  lonely  tower?  " 

"  A  man  was  with  me.  But  I  did  not  receive  him  in 
the  lonely  tower;  and  it  was  no  assignation." 

"Who  was  that  man?"  yelled  the  king.  "Answer 
me!  Tell  me  his  name,  if  you  do  not  want  me  to  strangle 
you  myself! " 

"  King  Henry,  I  fear  death  no  longer! "  said  Catha- 
rine, with  a  contemptuous  smile. 

"  Who  was  that  man?  Tell  me  his  name!  "  yelled  the 
king  once  more. 

The  queen  raised  herself  more  proudly,  and  her  defiant 
look  ran  over  the  whole  assembly. 

"  The  man,"  said  she,  solemnly,  "  who  was  with  me  on 
that  night — he  is  named " 

"He  is  named  John  Heywood!"  said  this  individual, 
as  he  seriously  and  proudly  walked  forward  from  behind 
the  king's  throne.  "Yes,  Henry,  your  brother,  the  fool 
John  Hey  wood,  had  on  that  night  the  proud  honor  of  ac- 
companying your  consort  on  her  holy  errand;  but,  I  assure 
you,  that  he  was  less  like  the  king,  than  the  king  is  just 
now  like  the  fool." 

A  murmur  of  surprise  ran  through  the  assembly.  The 
king  leaned  back  in  his  royal  seat  speechless. 


HENRY    Vin.   AND    HIS    COURT.  265 

"And  now,  King  Henry,"  said  Catharine,  calmly — 
"  now  I  will  tell  you  whither  I  went  with  John  Heywood 
on  that  night." 

She  was  silent,  and  for  a  moment  leaned  back  on  her 
seat.  She  felt  that  the  looks  of  all  were  directed  to  her; 
she  heard  the  king's  wrathful  groan;  she  felt  her  lover's 
flashing,  reproachful  glances;  she  saw  the  derisive  smile  of 
those  haughty  ladies,  who  had  never  forgiven  her — that 
she,  from  a  simple  baroness,  had  become  queen.  But  all 
this  made  her  only  still  bolder  and  more  courageous. 

She  had  arrived  at  the  turning-point  of  her  life,  where 
she  must  risk  everything  to  avoid  sinking  into  the  abyss. 

But  Lady  Jane  also  had  arrived  at  such  a  decisive  mo- 
ment of  her  existence.  She,  too,  said  to  herself:  "  I  must 
at  this  hour  risk  all,  if  I  do  not  want  to  lose  all."  She  saw 
Henry  Howard's  pale,  expectant  face.  She  knew,  if  the 
queen  now  spoke,  the  whole  web  of  their  conspiracy  would 
be  revealed  to  him. 

She  must,  therefore,  anticipate  the  queen.  She  must 
warn  Henry  Howard. 

"  Fear  nothing!  "  whispered  she  to  him.  "  We  were 
prepared  for  that.  I  have  put  into  her  hands  the  means 
of  escape! " 

"  Will  you  now  at  last  speak?  "  exclaimed  the  king, 
quivering  with  impatience  and  rage.  "  Will  you  at  last 
tell  us  where  you  were  on  that  night?  " 

"I  will  tell!"  exclaimed  Catharine,  rising  up  again 
boldly  and  resolutely.  "  But  woe  be  to  those  who  drive 
me  to  this!  For  I  tell  you  beforehand,  from  the  accused  I 
will  become  an  accuser  who  demands  justice,  if  not  before 
the  throne  of  the  King  of  England,  yet  before  the  throne 
of  the  Lord  of  all  kings!  King  Henry  of  England,  do  you 
ask  me  whither  I  went  on  that  night  with  John  Heywood? 
I  might,  perhaps,  as  your  queen  and  consort,  demand  that 
you  put  this  question  to  me  not  before  so  many  witnesses, 
but  in  the  quiet  of  our  chamber;  but  you  seek  publicity, 

and  I  do  not  shun  it.     Well,  hear  the  truth,  then,  all  of 
18 


266  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

you!  On  that  night,  between  Monday  and  Tuesday,  I  was 
not  in  my  sleeping-apartment,  because  I  had  a  grave  and 
sacred  duty  to  perform;  because  a  dying  woman  called  on 
me  for  help  and  pity!  Would  you  know,  my  lord  and 
husband,  who  this  dying  woman  was?  It  was  Anne 
Askew! " 

"  Anne  Askew! "  exclaimed  the  king  in  astonishment; 
and  his  countenance  exhibited  a  less  wrathful  expression. 

"  Anne  Askew!  "  muttered  the  others;  and  John  Iley- 
wood  very  well  saw  how  Bishop  Gardiner's  brow  darkened, 
and  how  Chancellor  Wriothesley  turned  pale  and  cast 
down  his  eyes. 

"  Yes,  I  was  with  Anne  Askew! "  continued  the 
queen — "with  Anne  Askew,  whom  those  pious  and  wise 
lords  yonder  had  condemned,  not  so  much  on  account  of 
her  faith,  but  because  they  knew  that  I  loved  her.  Anne 
Askew  was  to  die,  because  Catharine  Parr  loved  her!  She 
was  to  go  to  the  stake,  that  my  heart  also  might  bum  with 
fiery  pains!  And  because  it  was  so,  I  was  obliged  to  risk 
everything  in  order  to  save  her.  Oh,  my  king,  say  your- 
self, did  I  not  owe  it  to  this  poor  girl  to  try  everything  in 
order  to  save  her?  On  my  account  she  was  to  suffer  these 
tortures.  For  they  had  shamefully  stolen  from  me  a  let- 
ter which  Anne  Askew,  in  the  distress  of  her  heart,  had 
addressed  to  me;  and  they  showed  this  letter  to  you  in 
order  to  cast  suspicion  on  me  and  accuse  me  to  you.  But 
your  noble  heart  repelled  the  suspicion;  and  now  their 
wrath  fell  again  on  Anne  Askew,  and  she  must  suffer, 
because  they  did  not  find  me  punishable.  She  must 
atone  for  having  dared  to  write  to  me.  They  worked 
matters  with  you  so  that  she  was  put  to  the  rack.  But 
when  my  husband  gave  way  to  their  urging,  yet  the 
noble  king  remained  still  awake  in  him.  '  Go/  said  he, 
*  rack  her  and  kill  her;  but  see  first  whether  she  will  not 
recant.' " 

Henry  looked  astonished  into  her  noble  and  defiant 
face.  "  Do  you  know  that? "  asked  he.  "  And  yet  we 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  267 

were  alone,  and  no  human  being  present.  Who  could  tell 
you  that?  " 

"  When  man  is  no  longer  able  to  help,  then  God  under- 
takes! "  said  Catharine  solemnly.  "  It  was  God  who  com- 
manded me  to  go  to  Anne  Askew,  and  try  whether  I  could 
save  her.  And  I  went.  But  though  the  wife  of  a  noble 
and  great  king,  I  am  still  but  a  weak  and  timid  woman.  I 
was  afraid  to  tread  this  gloomy  and  dangerous  path  alone; 
I  needed  a  strong  manly  arm  to  lean  upon;  and  so  John 
Heywood  lent  me  his." 

"  And  you  were  really  with  Anne  Askew,"  interposed 
the  king,  thoughtfully — "  with  that  hardened  sinner,  who 
despised  mercy,  and  in  the  stubbornness  of  her  soul  would 
not  be  a  partaker  of  the  pardon  that  I  offered  her?  " 

"  My  lord  and  husband,"  said  the  queen,  with  tears  in 
her  eyes,  "  she  whom  you  have  just  accused  stands  even 
now  before  the  throne  of  the  Lord,  and  has  received  from 
her  God  the  forgiveness  of  her  sins!  Therefore,  do  you 
likewise  pardon  her;  and  may  the  flames  of  the  stake,  to 
which  yesterday  the  noble  virgin  body  of  this  girl  was 
bound,  have  consumed  also  the  wrath  and  hatred  which 
had  been  kindled  in  your  heart  against  her!  Anne  Askew 
passed  away  like  a  saint;  for  she  forgave  all  her  enemies 
and  blessed  her  tormentors." 

"  Anne  Askew  was  a  damnable  sinner,  who  dared  resist 
the  command  of  her  lord  and  king! "  interrupted  Bishop 
Gardiner,  looking  daggers  at  her. 

"  And  dare  you  maintain,  my  lord,  that  you  at  that 
time  fulfilled  the  commands  of  your  royal  master  simply 
and  exactly?"  asked  Catharine.  "Did  you  keep  within 
them  with  respect  to  Anne  Askew?  No!  I  say;  for  the 
king  had  not  ordered  you  to  torture  her;  he  had  not  bid- 
den you  to  lacerate  in  blasphemous  wrath  a  noble  human 
form,  and  distort  that  likeness  of  God  into  a  horrible  cari- 
cature. And  that,  my  lord,  you  did!  Before  God  and 
your  king,  I  accuse  you  of  it — I,  the  queen!  For  you 
know,  my  lord  and  husband,  I  was  there  when  Anne 


268  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS   COURT. 

Askew  was  racked.  I  saw  her  agony;  and  John  Heywood 
saw  it  with  me." 

The  eyes  of  all  were  now  directed  inquiringly  to  the 
king,  of  whose  ferocity  and  choler  every  one  expected  a 
violent  outbreak. 

But  this  time  they  were  mistaken.  The  king  was  so 
well  satisfied  to  find  his  consort  clear  of  the  crime  laid  to 
her  charge,  that  he  willingly  forgave  her  for  having  com- 
mitted a  crime  of  less  weighty  character.  Besides,  it 
filled  him  with  respect  to  see  his  consort  confronting  her 
accusers  so  boldly  and  proudly;  and  he  felt  toward  them 
just  as  burning  wrath  and  hatred  as  he  had  before  har- 
bored against  the  queen.  He  was  pleased  that  the  malig- 
nant and  persistent  persecutors  of  his  fair  and  proud  wife 
should  now  be  humbled  by  her  before  the  eyes  of  all  his 
court. 

Therefore  he  looked  at  her  with  an  imperceptible  smile, 
and  said  with  deep  interest:  "  But  how  could  this  happen, 
my  lady?  By  what  path  did  you  get  thither?  " 

"  That  is  an  inquiry  which  any  one  except  the  king  is 
authorized  to  make.  King  Henry  alone  knows  the  way 
that  I  went!  "  said  Catharine,  with  a  slight  smile. 

John  Heywood,  who  was  still  standing  behind  the  king's 
throne,  now  bent  down  close  to  Henry's  ear,  and  spoke 
with  him  a  long  time  in  a  quick,  low  tone. 

The  king  listened  to  him  attentively;  then  he  mur- 
mured so  loud  that  the  bystanders  could  very  well  under- 
stand him:  "  By  God,  she  is  a  spirited  and  brave  woman; 
and  we  should  be  obliged  to  confess  that,  even  were  she 
not  our  queen!" 

"  Continue,  my  lady! "  said  he  then  aloud,  turning  to 
the  queen  with  a  gracious  look.  "  Relate  to  me,  Catha- 
rile,  what  saw  you  then  in  the  torture-chamber?  " 

"  Oh,  my  king  and  lord,  it  horrifies  me  only  to  think  of 
it/*  cried  she,  shuddering  and  turning  pale.  "I  saw  a 
poor  young  woman  who  writhed  in  fearful  agony,  and 
whose  staring  eyes  were  raised  in  mute  supplication  to 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  269 

Heaven.  She  did  not  beg  her  tormentors  for  mercy;  she 
wanted  from  them  no  compassion  and  no  pity;  she  did  not 
scream  and  whine  from  the  pain,  though  her  limbs  cracked 
and  her  flesh  snapped  apart  like  glass;  she  raised  her 
clasped  hands  to  God,  and  her  lips  murmured  low  prayers, 
which,  perhaps,  made  the  angels  of  heaven  weep,  but  were 
not  able  to  touch  the  hearts  of  her  tormentors.  You  had 
ordered  her  to  be  racked,  if  she  would  not  retract.  They 
did  not  ask  her  whether  she  would  do  this — they  racked 
her.  But  her  soul  was  strong  and  full  of  courage;  and, 
under  the  tortures  of  the  executioner,  her  lips  remained 
mute.  Let  theologians  say  and  determine  whether  Anne 
Askew's  faith  was  a  false  one;  but  this  they  will  not  dare 
deny:  that  in  the  noble  enthusiasm  of  this  faith,  she  was 
a  heroine  who  at  least  did  not  deny  her  God.  At  length, 
worn  out  with  so  much  useless  exertion,  the  assistant  exe- 
cutioners discontinued  their  bloody  work,  to  rest  from  the 
tortures  which  they  had  prepared  for  Anne  Askew.  The 
lieutenant  of  the  Tower  declared  the  work  of  the  rack 
ended.  The  highest  degrees  had  been  applied,  and  they 
had  proved  powerless;  cruelty  was  obliged  to  acknowledge 
itself  conquered.  But  the  priests  of  the  Church,  with 
savage  vehemence,  demanded  that  she  should  be  racked 
once  more.  Dare  deny  that,  ye  lords,  whom  I  behold 
standing  there  opposite  with  faces  pale  as  death!  Yes, 
my  king,  the  servants  of  the  rack  refused  to  obey  the  ser- 
vants of  God;  for  in  the  hearts  of  the  hangman's  drudges 
there  was  more  pity  than  in  the  hearts  of  the  priests! 
And  when  they  refused  to  proceed  in  their  bloody  work, 
and  when  the  lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  in  virtue  of  the 
existing  law,  declared  the  racking  at  an  end,  then  I  saw 
one  of  the  first  ministers  of  our  Church  throw  aside  his 
sacred  garments;  then  the  priest  of  God  transformed  him- 
self into  a  hangman's  drudge,  who,  with  bloodthirsty  de- 
light, lacerated  anew  the  noble  mangled  body  of  the  young 
girl,  and  more  cruel  than  the  attendants  of  the  rack,  un- 
sparingly they  broke  and  dislocated  the  limbs,  which  they 


270  HENRY    VITI.    AND    ITTR    COURT. 

had  only  squeezed  in  their  screws.*  Excuse  me,  my  king, 
from  sketching  this  scene  of  horror  still  further!  Horri- 
fied and  trembling,  I  fled  from  that  frightful  place,  and 
returned  to  my  room,  shattered  and  sad  at  heart." 

Catharine  ceased,  exhausted,  and  sank  back  into  her 
seat. 

A  breathless  stillness  reigned  around.  All  faces  were 
pale  and  colorless.  Gardiner  and  Wriothesley  stood  with 
their  eyes  fixed,  gloomy  and  defiant,  expecting  that  the 
king's  wrath  would  crush  and  destroy  them. 

But  the  king  scarcely  thought  of  them;  he  thought 
only  of  his  fair  young  queen,  whose  boldness  inspired  him 
with  respect,  and  whose  innocence  and  purity  filled  him 
with  a  proud  and  blissful  joy. 

He  was,  therefore,  very  much  inclined  to  forgive  those 
who  in  reality  had  committed  no  offence  further  than  this, 
that  they  had  carried  out  a  little  too  literally  and  strictly 
the  orders  of  their  master. 

A  long  pause  had  ensued — a  pause  full  of  expectation 
and  anxiety  for  all  who  were  assembled  in  the  hall.  Only 
Catharine  reclined  calmly  in  her  chair,  and  with  beaming 
eyes  looked  across  to  Thomas  Seymour,  whose  handsome 
countenance  betrayed  to  her  the  gratification  and  satis- 
faction which  he  felt  at  this  clearing  up  of  her  mysterious 
night-wandering. 

At  last  the  king  arose,  and,  bowing  low  before  his  con- 
sort, said  in  a  loud,  full-toned  voice:  "  I  have  deeply  and 
bitterly  injured  you,  my  noble  wife;  and  as  I  publicly  ac- 
cused you,  I  will  also  publicly  ask  your  forgiveness!  You 
have  a  right  to  be  angry  with  me;  for  it  behooved  me, 
above  all,  to  believe  with  unshaken  firmness  in  the  truth 
and  honor  of  my  wife.  My  lady,  you  have  made  a  bril- 
liant vindication  of  yourself;  and  I,  the  king,  first  of  all 
bow  before  you,  and  beg  that  you  may  forgive  me  and 
impose  some  penance." 

"  Leave  it  to  me,  queen,  to  impose  a  penance  on  this 

*  Burnet's  "  History  of  the  Reformation,"  vol.  i,  p.  182. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  271 

repentant  sinner!  "  cried  John  Hey  wood,  gayly.  "  Your 
majesty  is  much  too  magnanimous,  much  too  timid,  to 
treat  him  as  roughly  as  my  brother  King  Henry  deserves. 
Leave  it  to  me,  then,  to  punish  him;  for  only  the  fool  is 
wise  enough  to  punish  the  king  after  his  deserts." 

Catharine  nodded  to  him  with  a  grateful  smile.  She 
comprehended  perfectly  John  Heywood's  delicacy  and  nice 
tact;  she  apprehended  that  he  wanted  by  a  joke  to  relieve 
her  from  her  painful  situation,  and  put  an  end  to  the 
king's  public  acknowledgment,  which  at  the  same  time 
must  turn  to  her  bitter  reproach — bitter,  though  it  were 
only  self-reproach. 

"  Well,"  said  she,  smiling,  "  what  punishment,  then, 
will  you  impose  upon  the  king?  " 

"  The  punishment  of  recognizing  the  fool  as  his 
equal! " 

"  God  is  my  witness  that  I  do  so! "  cried  the  king,  al- 
most solemnly.  "Fools  we  are,  one  and  all,  and  we  fall 
short  of  the  renown  which  we  have  before  men." 

"  But  my  sentence  is  not  yet  complete,  brother!  "  con- 
tinued John  Heywood.  "  I  furthermore  give  sentence, 
that  you  also  forthwith  allow  me  to  recite  my  poem  to  you, 
and  that  you  open  your  ears  in  order  to  hear  what  John 
Heywood,  the  wise,  has  indited! " 

"  You  have,  then,  fulfilled  my  command,  and  composed 
a  new  interlude  ?  "  cried  the  king,  vivaciously. 

"  No  interlude,  but  a  wholly  novel,  comical  affair — a 
play  full  of  lampoons  and  jokes,  at  which  your  eyes  are  to 
overflow,  yet  not  with  weeping,  but  with  laughter.  To 
the  right  noble  Earl  of  Surrey  belongs  the  proud  honor  of 
having  presented  to  our  happy  England  her  first  sonnets. 
Well,  now,  I  also  will  give  her  something  new.  I  present 
her  the  first  comedy;  and  as  he  sings  the  beauty  of  his 
Geraldine,  so  I  celebrate  the  fame  of  Gammer  Gurton's 
sewing-needle — Gammer  Gurton's  needle — so  my  piece  is 
called ;  and  you,  King  Henry,  shall  listen  to  it  as  a  punish- 
ment for  your  sins! " 


272  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

"  I  will  do  so,"  cried  the  king,  cheerfully,  "  provided 
you  permit  it,  Kate!  But  before  I  do  so,  I  make  also  one 
more  condition — a  condition  for  you,  queen!  Kate,  you 
have  disdained  to  impose  a  penance  on  me,  but  grant  me 
at  least  the  pleasure  of  being  allowed  to  fulfil  some  wish  of 
yours!  Make  me  a  request,  that  I  may  grant  it  you! " 

"  Well,  then,  my  lord  and  king,"  said  Catharine  with  a 
charming  smile,  "  I  beg  you  to  think  no  more  of  the  inci- 
dents of  this  day,  and  to  forgive  those  whom  I  accused, 
only  because  their  accusation  was  my  vindication.  They 
who  brought  charges  against  me  have  in  this  hour  felt 
contrition  for  their  own  fault.  Let  that  suffice,  king, 
and  forgive  them,  as  I  do! " 

"  You  are  a  noble  and  great  woman,  Kate!  "  cried  the 
king;  and,  as  his  glance  swept  over  toward  Gardiner  with 
an  almost  contemptuous  expression,  he  continued:  "Your 
request  is  granted.  But  woe  to  them  who  shall  dare 
accuse  you  again!  And  have  you  nothing  further  to 
demand,  Kate?  " 

^  "Nay,  one  thing  more,  my  lord  and  husband!"  She 
leaned  nearer  to  the  king's  ear,  and  whispered:  "They 
have  also  accused  your  noblest  and  most  faithful  servant; 
they  have  accused  Cranmer.  Condemn  him  not,  king, 
without  having  heard  him;  and  if  I  may  beg  a  favor  of 
you,  it  is  this:  talk  with  Cranmer  yourself.  Tell  him  of 
what  they  have  charged  him,  and  hear  his  vindication." 

"  It  shall  be  so,  Kate,"  said  the  king,  "  and  you  shall 
be  present!  But  let  this  be  a  secret  between  us,  Kate, 
and  we  will  carry  it  out  in  perfect  silence.  And  now,  then, 
John  Heywood,  let  us  hear  your  composition;  and  woe  to 
you,  if  it  does  not  accomplish  what  you  promised — if  it 
does  not  make  us  laugh!  For  you  well  know  that  you  are 
then  inevitably  exposed  to  the  rods  of  our  injured  ladies." 

"  They  shall  have  leave  to  whip  me  to  death,  if  I  do 
not  make  you  laugh! "  cried  John  Heywood,  gayly,  as  he 
drew  out  his  manuscript. 

Soon  the  hall  rang  again  with  loud  laughter;  and  in 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  273 

the  universal  merriment  no  one  observed  that  Bishop  Gar- 
diner and  Earl  Douglas  slipped  quietly  away. 

In  the  anteroom  without,  they  stopped  and  looked  at 
each  other  long  and  silently;  their  countenances  expressed 
the  wrath  and  bitterness  which  filled  them;  and  they  un- 
derstood this  mute  language  of  their  features. 

"  She  must  die ! "  said  Gardiner  in  a  short  and  quick 
tone.  "  She  has  for  once  escaped  from  our  snares;  we  will 
tie  them  all  the  tighter  next  time!  " 

"And  I  already  hold  in  my  hand  the  threads  out  of 
which  we  will  form  these  snares,"  said  Earl  Douglas.  "  We 
have  to-day  falsely  accused  her  of  a  love-affair.  When  we 
do  it  again,  we  shall  speak  the  truth.  Did  you  see  the 
looks  that  Catharine  exchanged  with  the  heretical  Earl 
Sudley,  Thomas  Seymour?  " 

"  I  saw  them,  earl ! " 

"For  these  looks  she  will  die,  my  lord.  The  queen 
loves  Thomas  Seymour,  and  this  love  will  be  her  death." 

"  Amen!  "  said  Bishop  Gardiner,  solemnly,  as  he  raised 
his  eyes  devoutly  to  heaven.  "Amen!  The  queen  has 
grievously  and  bitterly  injured  us  to-day;  she  has  insulted 
and  abused  us  before  all  the  court.  We  will  requite  her 
for  it  some  day!  The  torture-chamber,  which  she  has  de- 
picted in  such  lively  colors,  may  yet  one  day  open  for  her, 
too — not  that  she  may  behold  another's  agonies,  but  that 
she  may  suffer  agonies  herself.  We  shall  one  day  avenge 
ourselves! " 


CHAPTEE   XXVI. 

BEVESTGE. 


Miss  HOLLAND,  the  beautiful  and  much-admired  mis- 
tress of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  was  alone  in  her  magnificent- 
ly adorned  boudoir.  It  was  the  hour  when  ordinarily  the 


274:  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

duke  was  wont  to  be  with  her;  for  this  reason  she  was 
charmingly  attired,  and  had  wrapped  herself  in  that  light, 
and  voluptuous  negligee  which  the  duke  so  much  liked,  be- 
cause it  set  off  to  so  much  advantage  the  splendid  form  of 
his  friend. 

But  to-day  the  expected  one  did  not  make  his  appear- 
ance: in  his  stead  his  valet  had  just  come  and  brought  the 
fair  miss  a  note  from  his  master.  This  note  she  was  hold- 
ing in  her  hand,  while  with  passionate  violence  she  now 
walked  up  and  down  her  boudoir.  A  glowing  crimson 
blazed  upon  her  cheeks,  and  her  large,  haughty  eyes  dart- 
ed wild  flashes  of  wrath. 

She  was  disdained — she,  Lady  Holland,  was  forced  to 
endure  the  disgrace  of  being  dismissed  by  her  lover. 

There,  there,  in  that  letter  which  she  held  in  her  hand, 
and  which  burned  her  fingers  like  red-hot  iron — there 
it  stood  in  black  and  white,  that  he  would  see  her  no 
more;  that  he  renounced  her  love;  that  he  released 
her. 

Her  whole  frame  shook  as  she  thought  of  this.  It  was 
not  the  anguish  of  a  loving  heart  which  made  her  tremble; 
it  was  the  wounded  pride  of  the  woman. 

He  had  abandoned  her.  Her  beauty,  her  youth  no 
longer  had  the  power  to  enchain  him — the  man  with  white 
hairs  and  withered  features. 

He  had  written  her  that  he  was  satiated  and  weary,  not 
of  her,  but  only  of  love  in  general;  that  his  heart  had  be- 
come old  and  withered  like  his  face;  and  that  there  was 
still  in  his  breast  no  more  room  for  love,  but  only  for  am- 
bition. 

Was  not  that  a  revolting,  an  unheard-of  outrage — to 
abandon  the  finest  woman  in  England  for  the  sake  of 
empty,  cold,  stern  ambition? 

She  opened  the  letter  once  more.  Once  more  she  read 
that  place.  Then  grinding  her  teeth  with  tears  of  anger 
in  her  eyes:  "He  shall  pay  me  for  this!  I  will  take  ven- 
geance for  this  insult! " 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  275 

She  thrust  the  letter  into  her  bosom,  and  touched  the 
silver  bell. 

"  Have  my  carriage  brought  round!  "  was  her  order  to 
the  servant  who  entered;  and  he  withdrew  in  silence. 

"  I  will  avenge  myself! "  muttered  she,  as  with  trem- 
bling hands  she  wrapped  herself  in  her  large  Turkish 
shawl.  "  I  will  avenge  myself;  and,  by  the  Eternal!  it 
shall  be  a  bloody  and  swift  vengeance!  I  will  show  him 
that  I,  too,  am  ambitious,  and  that  my  pride  is  not  to  be 
humbled.  He  says  he  will  forget  me.  Oh,  I  will  compel 
him  to  think  of  me,  even  though  it  be  only  to  curse  me !  " 

With  hasty  step  she  sped  through  the  glittering  apart- 
ments, which  the  liberality  of  her  lover  had  furnished  so 
magnificently,  and  descended  to  the  carriage  standing 
ready  for  her. 

"  To  the  Duchess  of  Norfolk's! "  said  she  to  the  foot- 
man standing  at  the  door  of  the  carriage,  as  she  entered  it. 

The  servant  looked  at  her  in  astonishment  and  in- 
quiringly. 

"  To  the  Duke  of  Norfolk;  is  it  not,  my  lady?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  to  the  duchess!  "  cried  she  with  a  frown, 
as  she  leaned  back  on  the  cushion. 

After  a  short  time,  the  carriage  drew  up  before  the 
palace  of  the  duchess,  and  with  haughty  tread  and  com- 
manding air  she  passed  through  the  porch. 

"  Announce  me  to  the  duchess  immediately,"  was  her 
order  to  the  lackey  who  was  hurrying  to  meet  her. 

"  Your  name,  my  lady?  " 

"  Miss  Arabella  Holland." 

The  servant  stepped  back,  and  stared  at  her  in  surprise. 
"  Miss  Arabella  Holland!  and  you  order  me  to  announce 
you  to  the  duchess?  " 

A  contemptuous  smile  played  a  moment  about  the 
thin  lips  of  the  beautiful  miss.  "  I  see  you  know  me," 
said  she,  "  and  you  wonder  a  little  to  see  me  here.  Won- 
der as  much  as  you  please,  good  friend;  only  conduct  me 
immediately  to  the  duchess." 


276  HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

"  I  doubt  whether  her  ladyship  receives  calls  to-day," 
stammered  the  servant,  hesitatingly. 

"  Then  go  and  ask;  and,  that  I  may  learn  her  answer 
as  soon  as  possible,  I  will  accompany  you." 

With  a  commanding  air,  she  motioned  to  the  servant  to 
go  before  her;  and  he  could  not  summon  up  courage  to 
gainsay  this  proud  beauty. 

In  silence  they  traversed  the  suite  of  stately  apart- 
ments, and  at  length  stood  before  a  door  hung  with  tap- 
estry. 

"  I  must  beg  you  to  wait  here  a  moment,  my  lady,  so 
that  I  can  announce  you  to  the  duchess,  who  is  there  in 
her  boudoir." 

"No,  indeed;  I  will  assume  that  office  myself,"  said 
Miss  Holland,  as  with  strong  hand  she  pushed  back  the 
servant  and  opened  the  door. 

The  duchess  was  sitting  at  her  writing-table,  her  back 
turned  to  the  door  through  which  Arabella  had  entered. 
She  did  not  turn  round;  perhaps  she  had  not  heard  the 
door  open.  She  continued  quietly  writing. 

Miss  Arabella  Holland  with  stately  step  crossed  the 
room,  and  now  stood  close  to  the  chair  of  the  duchess. 

"  Duchess,  I  would  like  to  speak  with  you,"  said  she, 
coolly  and  calmly. 

The  duchess  uttered  a  cry  and  looked  up.  "  Miss  Hol- 
land! "  cried  she  amazed,  and  hastily  rising.  "  Miss 
Holland!  you  here  with  me,  in  my  house!  What  do  you 
want  here?  How  dare  you  cross  my  threshold?  " 

"  I  see  you  still  hate  me,  my  lady,"  said  Arabella,  smil- 
ing. "  You  have  not  yet  forgiven  me  that  the  duke,  your 
husband,  found  more  delight  in  my  young,  handsome  face, 
than  in  yours,  now  growing  old — that  my  sprightly,  wan- 
ton disposition  pleased  him  better  than  your  cold,  stately 
air." 

The  duchess  turned  pale  with  rage,  and  her  eyes  dart- 
ed lightning.  "Silence,  you  shameless  creature!  silence, 
or  I  will  call  my  servants  to  rid  me  of  you!  " 


HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS    COURT.  277 

"  You  will  not  call  them;  for  I  have  come  to  be  recon- 
ciled with  you,  and  to  offer  you  peace." 

"  Peace  with  you!  "  sneered  the  duchess — "  peace  with 
that  shameless  woman  who  stole  from  me  my  husband,  the 
father  of  my  children? — who  loaded  me  with  the  disgrace 
of  standing  before  the  whole  world  as  a  repudiated  and 
despised  wife,  and  of  suffering  myself  to  be  compared  with 
you,  that  the  world  might  decide  which  of  us  two  was 
worthier  of  his  love?  Peace  with  you,  Miss  Holland? — 
with  the  impudent  strumpet  who  squanders  my  husband's 
means  in  lavish  luxury,  and,  with  scoffing  boldness,  robs 
my  children  of  their  lawful  property?  " 

"  It  is  true,  the  duke  is  very  generous,"  said  Miss  Hol- 
land, composedly.  "  He  loaded  me  with  diamonds  and 
gold." 

"  And  meanwhile  I  was  doomed  almost  to  suffer  want," 
said  the  duchess,  grinding  her  teeth. 

"  Want  of  love,  it  may  be,  my  lady,  but  not  want  of 
money;  for  you  are  very  magnificently  fitted  up;  and 
every  one  knows  that  the  Duchess  of  Norfolk  is  rich 
enough  to  be  able  to  spare  the  trifles  that  her  husband 
laid  at  my  feet.  By  Heaven!  my  lady,  I  would  not  have 
deemed  it  worth  the  trouble  to  stoop  for  them,  if  I  had  not 
seen  among  these  trifles  his  heart.  The  heart  of  a  man  is 
well  worth  a  woman's  stooping  for!  You  have  neglected 
that,  my  lady,  and  therefore  you  lost  your  husband's  heart. 
I  picked  it  up.  That  is  all.  Why  will  you  make  a  crime 
of  that?" 

"That  is  enough!"  cried  the  duchess.  "It  does  not 
become  me  to  dispute  with  you;  I  desire  only  to  know 
what  gave  you  the  courage  to  come  to  me?  " 

"  My  lady,  do  you  hate  me  only?  Or  do  you  also  hate 
the  duke  your  husband?  " 

"  She  asks  me  whether  I  hate  him!  "  cried  the  duchess, 
with  a  wild,  scornful  laugh.  "  Yes,  Miss  Holland,  yes!  I 
hate  him  as  ardently  as  I  despise  you.  I  hate  him  so 
much  that  I  would  give  my  whole  estate — ay,  years  of  my 


278  HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

life — if  I  could  punish  him  for  the  disgrace  he  has  put 
upon  me." 

"  Then,  my  lady,  we  shall  soon  understand  each  other; 
for  I  too  hate  him,"  said  Miss  Holland,  quietly  seating  her- 
self on  the  velvet  divan,  and  smiling  as  she  observed  the 
speechless  astonishment  of  the  duchess. 

"  Yes,  my  lady,  I  hate  him;  and  without  doubt  still 
more  ardently,  still  more  intensely  than  you  yourself;  for 
I  am  young  and  fiery;  you  are  old,  and  have  always  man- 
aged to  preserve  a  cool  heart." 

The  duchess  was  convulsed  with  rage;  but  silently,  and 
with  an  effort,  she  gulped  down  the  drop  of  wormwood 
which  her  wicked  rival  mingled  in  the  cup  of  joy  which 
she  presented  to  her. 

"You  do  hate  him,  Miss  Holland?"  asked  she,  joy- 
fully. 

"  I  hate  him,  and  I  have  come  to  league  myself  with 
you  against  him.  He  is  a  traitor,  a  perfidious  wretch,  a 
perjurer.  I  will  take  vengeance  for  my  disgrace!" 

"  Ah,  has  he  then  deserted  you  also?  " 

"  He  has  deserted  me  also." 

"  Well,  then,  God  be  praised! "  cried  the  duchess,  and 
her  face  beamed  with  joy.  "  God  is  great  and  just;  and 
He  has  punished  you  with  the  same  weapons  with  which 
you  sinned!  For  your  sake,  he  deserted  me;  and  for  the 
sake  of  another  woman,  he  forsakes  you." 

"Not  so,  my  lady!"  said  Miss  Holland,  proudly.  "A 
woman  like  me  is  not  forsaken  on  account  of  a  woman; 
and  he  who  loves  me  will  love  no  other  after  me.  There, 
read  his  letter! " 

She  handed  the  duchess  her  husband's  letter. 

"  And  what  do  you  want  to  do  now?  "  asked  the  duch- 
ess, after  she  had  read  it. 

"  I  will  have  revenge,  my  lady!  He  says  he  no  longer 
has  a  heart  to  love;  well,  now,  we  will  so  manage,  that  lio 
may  no  longer  have  a  head  to  think.  Will  you  be  my  ally, 
my  lady?  " 


HENRY   VIII.   AND  HIS  COURT.  979 

"  I  will." 

"  And  I  also  will  be,"  said  the  Duchess  of  Richmond, 
who  just  then  opened  the  door  and  came  out  of  the  ad- 
joining room. 

Not  a  word  of  this  entire  conversation  had  escaped  her, 
and  she  very  well  understood  that  the  question  was  not 
about  some  petty  vengeance,  but  her  father's  head.  She 
knew  that  Miss  Holland  was  not  a  woman  that,  when  irri- 
tated, pricked  with  a  pin;  but  one  that  grasped  the  dag- 
ger to  strike  her  enemy  a  mortal  blow. 

"  Yes,  I  too  will  be  your  ally,"  cried  the  Duchess  of 
Richmond;  "  we  have  all  three  been  outraged  by  the  same 
man.  Let,  then,  our  revenge  be  a  common  one.  The 
father  has  insulted  you;  the  son,  me.  Well,  then,  I  will 
help  you  to  strike  the  father,  if  you  in  return  will  assist 
me  to  destroy  the  son." 

"  I  will  assist  you,"  said  Arabella,  smiling;  "  for  I  also 
hate  the  haughty  Earl  of  Surrey,  who  prides  himself  on  his 
virtue,  as  if  it  were  a  golden  fleece  which  God  himself  had 
stuck  on  his  breast.  I  hate  him;  for  he  never  meets  me 
but  with  proud  disregard;  and  he  alone  is  to  blame  for  his 
father's  faithlessness." 

"  I  was  present  when  with  tears  he  besought  the  duke, 
our  father,  to  free  himself  from  your  fetters,  and  give  up 
this  shameful  and  disgraceful  connection  with  you,"  said 
the  young  duchess. 

Arabella  answered  nothing.  But  she  pressed  her 
hands  firmly  together,  and  a  slight  pallor  overspread  her 
cheeks. 

"  And  why  are  you  angry  with  your  brother?  "  asked 
the  old  duchess,  thoughtfully. 

"  Why  am  I  angry  with  him,  do  you  ask,  my  mother? 
I  am  not  angry  with  him;  but  I  execrate  him,  and  I  have 
sworn  to  myself  never  to  rest  till  I  have  avenged  myself. 
My  happiness,  my  heart,  and  my  future,  lay  in  his  hands; 
and  he  has  remorselessly  trodden  under  his  haughty  feet 
these — his  sister's  precious  treasures.  It  lay  with  him  to 


280  HEXKY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

make  me  the  wife  of  the  man  I  love;  and  he  has  not  done 
it,  though  I  lay  at  his  feet  weeping  and  wringing  my 
hands." 

"  But  it  was  a  great  sacrifice  that  you  demanded,"  said 
her  mother.  "  He  had  to  give  his  hand  to  a  woman  he  did 
not  love,  so  that  you  might  be  Thomas  Seymour's  wife." 

"  Mother,  you  defend  him;  and  yet  he  it  is  that  blames 
you  daily;  and  but  yesterday  it  seemed  to  him  perfectly 
right  and  natural  that  the  duke  had  forsaken  you,  our 
mother." 

"  Did  he  do  that?  "  inquired  the  duchess,  vehemently. 
"  Well,  now,  as  he  has  forgotten  that  I  am  his  mother,  so 
will  I  forget  that  he  is  my  son.  I  am  your  ally!  Revenge 
for  our  injured  hearts!  Vengeance  on  father  and  eon! " 

She  held  out  both  hands,  and  the  two  young  women 
laid  their  hands  in  hers. 

"Vengeance  on  father  and  son!"  repeated  they  both; 
and  their  eyes  flashed,  and  crimson  now  mantled  their 
cheeks. 

"  I  am  tired  of  living  like  a  hermit  in  my  palace,  and  of 
being  banished  from  court  by  the  fear  that  I  may  en- 
counter my  husband  there." 

"  You  shall  encounter  him  there  no  more,"  said  her 
daughter,  laconically. 

"  They  shall  not  laugh  and  jeer  at  me,"  cried  Arabella. 
"  And  when  they  learn  that  he  has  forsaken  me,  they  shall 
also  know  how  I  have  avenged  myself  for  it." 

"  Thomas  Seymour  can  never  become  my  husband  so 
long  as  Henry  Howard  lives;  for  he  has  mortally  offended 
him,  as  Henry  has  rejected  the  hand  of  his  sister.  Per- 
haps I  may  become  his  wife,  if  Henry  Howard  is  no  more," 
said  the  young  duchess.  "  So  let  us  consider.  How  shall 
we  begin,  so  as  to  strike  them  surely  and  certainly?  " 

"  When  three  women  are  agreed,  they  may  well  be  cer- 
tain of  their  success,"  said  Arabella,  shrugging  her  shoul- 
ders. "  We  live — God  be  praised  for  it — under  a  noble 
and  high-minded  king,  who  beholds  the  blood  of  his  sub- 


HENRY    VIH.   AND   HIS   COURT.  281 

jects  with  as  much  pleasure  as  he  does  the  crimson  of  his 
royal  mantle,  and  who  has  never  yet  shrunk  back  when  a 
death-warrant  was  to  be  signed." 

"  But  this  time  he  will  shrink  back/'  said  the  old  duch- 
ess. "  He  will  not  dare  to  rob  the  noblest  and  most  power- 
ful family  of  his  kingdom  of  its  head." 

"  That  very  risk  will  stimulate  him,"  said  the  Duchess 
of  Eichmond,  laughing;  "  and  the  more  difficult  it  is  to 
bring  down  these  heads,  so  much  the  more  impatiently  will 
he  hanker  after  it.  The  king  hates  them  both,  and  he 
will  thank  us,  if  we  change  his  hatred  into  retributive  jus- 
tice." 

"  Then  let  us  accuse  both  of  high  treason!  "  cried  Ara- 
bella. "  The  duke  is  a  traitor;  for  I  will  and  can  swear 
that  he  has  often  enough  called  the  king  a  bloodthirsty 
tiger,  a  relentless  tyrant,  a  man  without  truth  and  without 
faith,  although  he  coquettishly  pretends  to  be  the  foun- 
tain and  rock  of  all  faith." 

"  If  he  has  said  that,  and  you  have  heard  him,  you  are 
in  duty  bound  to  communicate  it  to  the  king,  if  you  do  not 
want  to  be  a  traitoress  yourself,"  exclaimed  the  young 
duchess,  solemnly. 

"And  have  you  not  noticed  that  the  duke  has  for 
some  time  borne  the  same  coat-of-arms  as  the  king? " 
asked  the  Duchess  of  Norfolk.  "  It  is  not  enough  for  his 
haughty  and  ambitious  spirit  to  be  the  first  servant  of  this 
land;  he  strives  to  be  lord  and  king  of  it." 

"  Tell  that  to  the  king,  and  by  to-morrow  the  head  of 
the  traitor  falls.  For  the  king  is  as  jealous  of  his  king- 
dom as  ever  a  woman  was  of  her  lover.  Tell  him  that 
the  duke  bears  his  coat-of-arms,  and  his  destruction  is 
certain." 

"  I  will  tell  him  so,  daughter." 

"  We  are  sure  of  the  father,  but  what  have  we  for  the 
son?" 

"  A  sure  and  infallible  means,  that  will  as  certainly  dis- 
patch him  into  eternity  as  the  hunter's  tiny  bullet  slays 
19 


282  HENRY   VIII.   AND  HIS   COURT. 

the  proudest  stag.  Henry  loves  the  queen;  and  I  will 
furnish  the  king  proof  of  that/'  said  the  young  duchess. 

"  Then  let  us  go  to  the  king!  "  cried  Arabella,  impetu- 
ously. 

"  No,  indeed !  That  would  make  a  sensation,  and 
might  easily  frustrate  our  whole  plan,"  said  the  Duchess  of 
Richmond.  "  Let  us  first  talk  with  Earl  Douglas,  and 
hear  his  advice.  Come;  every  minute  is  precious!  We 
owe  it  to  our  womanly  honor  to  avenge  ourselves.  We 
cannot  and  will  not  leave  unpunished  those  who  have 
despised  our  love,  wounded  our  honor,  and  trodden  under 
foot  the  holiest  ties  of  nature! " 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

THE   ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 

THE  Princess  Elizabeth  was  sitting  in  her  room,  melan- 
choly and  absorbed  in  thought.  Her  eyes  were  red  with 
weeping;  and  she  pressed  her  hand  on  her  heart,  as  if  she 
would  repress  its  cry  of  anguish. 

With  a  disconsolate,  perplexed  look  she  gazed  around 
her  chamber,  and  its  solitude  was  doubly  painful  to  her  to- 
day, for  it  testified  to  her  forsaken  condition,  to  the  dis- 
grace that  still  rested  on  her.  For  were  it  not  so,  to-day 
would  have  been  to  the  whole  court  a  day  of  rejoicing,  of 
congratulations. 

To-day  was  Elizabeth's  birthday;  fourteen  years  ago 
to-day,  Anne  Boleyn's  daughter  had  seen  the  light  of  this 
world. 

"  Anne  Boleyn's  daughter! "  That  was  the  secret  of 
her  seclusion.  That  was  why  none  of  the  ladies  and  lords 
of  the  court  had  remembered  her  birthday;  for  that  would 
have  been  at  the  same  time  a  remembrance  of  Anne 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS   COURT.  283 

Boleyn,  of  Elizabeth's  beautiful  and  unfortunate  mother, 
who  had  been  made  to  atone  for  her  grandeur  and  prosper- 
ity by  her  death. 

Moreover,  the  king  had  called  his  daughter  Elizabeth  a 
bastard,  and  solemnly  declared  her  unworthy  of  succeeding 
to  the  throne. 

Her  birthday,  therefore,  was  to  Elizabeth  only  a  day  of 
humiliation  and  pain.  Keclining  on  her  divan,  she 
thought  of  her  despised  and  joyless  past,  of  her  desolate 
and  inglorious  future. 

She  was  a  princess,  and  yet  possessed  not  the  rights  of 
her  birth;  she  was  a  young  maiden,  and  yet  doomed,  in 
sad  resignation,  to  renounce  all  the  delights  and  enjoy- 
ments of  youth,  and  to  condemn  her  passionate  and  ardent 
heart  to  the  eternal  sleep  of  death.  For  when  the  Infante 
of  Spain  sued  for  her  hand,  Henry  the  Eighth  had  de- 
clared that  the  bastard  Elizabeth  was  unworthy  of  a 
princely  husband.  But  in  order  to  intimidate  other  suit- 
ors also,  he  had  loudly  and  openly  declared  that  no  subject 
should  dare  be  so  presumptuous  as  to  offer  his  hand  to  one 
of  his  royal  daughters,  and  he  who  dared  to  solicit  them  in 
marriage  should  be  punished  as  a  traitor. 

So  Elizabeth  was  condemned  to  remain  unmarried; 
and  nevertheless  she  loved;  nevertheless  she  harbored  only 
this  one  wish,  to  be  the  wife  of  her  beloved,  and  to  be  able 
to  exchange  the  proud  title  of  princess  for  the  name  of 
Countess  Seymour. 

Since  she  loved  hirn,  a  new  world,  a  new  sun  had  arisen 
on  her;  and  before  the  sweet  and  enchanting  whispers  of 
her  love,  even  the  proud  and  alluring  voices  of  her  am- 
bition had  to  be  silent.  She  no  longer  thought  of  it,  that 
she  would  never  be  a  queen;  she  was  only  troubled  that 
she  could  not  be  Seymour's  wife. 

She  no  longer  wanted  to  rule,  but  she  wanted  to  be 
happy.  But  her  happiness  reposed  on  him  alone — on 
Thomas  Seymour. 

Such  were  her  thoughts,  as  she  was  in  her  chamber 


284  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

on  the  morning  of  her  birthday,  alone  and  lonely;  and 
her  eyes  reddened  by  tears,  her  painfully  convulsed 
lips,  betrayed  how  much  she  had  wept  to-day;  how 
much  this  young  girl  of  fourteen  years  had  already  suf- 
fered. 

But  she  would  think  no  more  about  it;  she  would  not 
allow  the  lurking,  everywhere-prying,  malicious,  and 
wicked  courtiers  the  triumph  of  seeing  the  traces  of  her 
tears,  and  rejoicing  at  her  pains  and  her  humiliation.  She 
was  a  proud  and  resolute  soul;  she  would  rather  have  died 
than  to  have  accepted  the  sympathy  and  pity  of  the 
courtiers. 

"  I  will  work,"  said  she.  "  Work  is  the  best  balm  for 
all  pains." 

And  she  took  up  the  elaborate  silk  embroidery  which 
she  had  begun  for  her  poor,  unfortunate  friend,  Anne  of 
Cleves,  Henry's  divorced  wife.  But  the  work  occupied 
only  her  fingers,  not  her  thoughts. 

She  threw  it  aside  and  seized  her  books.  She  took  Pe- 
trarch's Sonnets;  and  his  love  plaints  and  griefs  enchained 
and  stirred  her  own  love-sick  heart. 

With  streaming  tears,  and  yet  smiling  and  full  of  sweet 
melancholy,  Elizabeth  read  these  noble  and  tender  poems. 
It  appeared  to  her  as  if  Petrarch  had  only  said  what  she 
herself  so  warmly  felt.  There  were  her  thoughts,  her 
griefs.  He  had  said  them  in  his  language;  she  must  now 
repeat  them  in  her  own.  She  seated  herself,  and  with 
hands  trembling  with  enthusiasm,  fluttering  breath,  per- 
fectly excited  and  glowing,  in  glad  haste  she  began  a  trans- 
lation of  Petrarch's  first  sonnet.* 

*  Elizabeth,  who  even  as  a  girl  of  twelve  years  old  spoke  four 
languages,  was  very  fond  of  composing  verses,  and  of  translating 
the  poems  of  foreign  authors.  But  she  kept  her  skill  in  this  respect 
very  secret,  and  was  always  very  angry  if  any  one  by  chance  saw  one 
of  her  poems.  After  her  death  there  were  found  among  her  papers 
many  translations,  especially  of  Petrarch's  Sonnets,  which  were  the 
work  of  her  earliest  youth. — Leti,  vol.  i,  p.  150. 


HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  285 

A  loud  knock  interrupted  her;  and  in  the  hastily 
opened  door  now  appeared  the  lovely  form  of  the  queen. 

"  The  queen! "  exclaimed  Elizabeth  with  delight. 
"  Have  you  come  to  me  at  such  an  early  morning  hour?  " 

"  And  should  I  wait  till  evening  to  wish  my  Elizabeth 
happiness  on  her  festival?  Should  I  first  let  the  sun  go 
down  on  this  day,  which  gave  to  England  so  noble  and  so 
fair  a  princess?"  asked  Catharine.  "Or  you  thought, 
perhaps,  I  did  not  know  that  this  was  your  birthday,  and 
that  to-day  my  Elizabeth  advances  from  the  years  of  child- 
hood, as  a  proud  maiden  full  of  hope?  " 

"Full  of  hope?"  said  Elizabeth,  sadly.  "Anne 
Boleyn's  daughter  has  no  hopes;  and  when  you  speak  of 
my  birthday,  you  remind  me  at  the  same  time  of  my  de- 
spised birth! " 

"  It  shall  be  despised  no  longer! "  said  Catharine,  and, 
as  she  put  her  arm  tenderly  around  Elizabeth's  neck,  she 
handed  her  a  roll  of  parchment. 

"  Take  that,  Elizabeth;  and  may  this  paper  be  to  you 
the  promise  of  a  joyful  and  brilliant  future!  At  my  re- 
quest, the  king  has  made  this  law,  and  he  therefore  grant- 
ed me  the  pleasure  of  bringing  it  to  you." 

Elizabeth  opened  the  parchment  and  read,  and  a  ra- 
diant expression  overspread  her  countenance. 

"Acknowledged!  I  am  acknowledged!"  cried  she. 
"  The  disgrace  of  my  birth  is  taken  away!  Elizabeth  is  no 
more  a  bastard — she  is  a  royal  princess! " 

"  And  she  may  some  day  be  a  queen! "  said  Catharine, 
smiling. 

"  Oh,"  cried  Elizabeth,  "  it  is  not  that  which  stirs  me 
with  such  joy.  But  the  disgrace  of  my  birth  is  taken 
away;  and  I  may  freely  hold  up  my  head  and  name  my 
mother's  name!  Now  thou  mayst  sleep  calmly  in  thy 
grave,  for  it  is  no  longer  dishonored!  Anne  Boleyn  was 
no  strumpet;  she  was  King  Henry's  lawful  wife,  and  Eliza- 
beth is  the  king's  legitimate  daughter!  I  thank  Thee,  my 
God— I  thank  Thee!" 


•JS6  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

And  the  young,  passionate  girl  threw  herself  on  her 
knees,  and  raised  her  hands  and  her  eyes  to  heaven. 

"  Spirit  of  my  glorified  mother,"  said  she,  solemnly,  "  I 
call  thee!  Come  to  me!  Overshadow  me  with  thy  smile, 
and  bless  me  with  thy  breath!  Queen  Anne  of  England, 
thy  daughter  is  no  longer  a  bastard,  and  no  one  dares  ven- 
ture more  to  insult  her.  Thou  wert  with  me  when  I  wept 
and  suffered,  my  mother;  and  often  in  my  disgrace  and 
humiliation,  it  was  as  if  I  heard  thy  voice,  which  whispered 
comfort  to  me;  as  if  I  saw  thy  heavenly  eyes,  which  poured 
peace  and  love  into  my  breast!  Oh,  abide  with  me  now 
also,  my  mother — now,  when  my  disgrace  is  taken  away, 
abide  with  me  in  my  prosperity;  and  guard  my  heart,  that 
it  may  be  kept  pure  from  arrogance  and  pride,  and  remain 
humble  in  its  joy!  Anne  Boleyn,  they  laid  thy  beautiful, 
innocent  head  upon  the  block;  but  this  parchment  sets 
upon  it  again  the  royal  crown;  and  woe,  woe  to  those  who 
will  now  still  dare  insult  thy  memory! " 

She  sprang  from  her  knees  and  rushed  to  the  wall  op- 
posite, on  which  was  a  large  oil  painting,  which  represent- 
ed Elizabeth  herself  as  a  child  playing  with  a  dog. 

"  Oh,  mother,  mother! "  said  she,  "  this  picture  was 
the  last  earthly  thing  on  which  thy  looks  rested;  and  to 
these  painted  lips  of  thy  child  thou  gavest  thy  last  kiss, 
which  thy  cruel  hangman  would  not  allow  to  thy  living 
child.  Oh,  let  me  sip  up  this  last  kiss  from  that  spot;  let 
me  touch  with  my  mouth  the  spot  that  thy  lips  have  conse- 
crated! " 

She  bent  down  and  kissed  the  picture. 

"  And  now  come  forth  out  of  thy  grave,  my  mother," 
said  she,  solemnly.  "  I  have  been  obliged  so  long  to  hide, 
so  long  to  veil  thee!  Now  thou  belongest  to  the  world 
and  to  the  light!  The  king  has  acknowledged  me  as  his 
lawful  daughter;  he  cannot  refuse  me  to  have  a  likeness 
of  my  mother  in  my  room." 

As  she  thus  spoke,  she  pressed  on  a  spring  set  in  the 
broad  gilt  frame  of  the  picture;  and  suddenly  the  painting 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  287 

was  seen  to  move  and  slowly  open  like  a  door,  so  as  to  ren- 
der visible  another  picture  concealed  beneath  it,  which 
represented  the  unfortunate  Anne  Boleyn  in  bridal  attire, 
in  the  full  splendor  of  her  beauty,  as  Holbein  had  painted 
her,  at  the  desire  of  her  husband  the  king. 

"  How  beautiful  and  angelic  that  countenance  is! " 
said  Catharine,  stepping  nearer.  "How  innocent  and 
pure  those  features!  Poor  queen!  Yet  thine  enemies 
succeeded  in  casting  suspicion  on  thee  and  bringing  thee 
to  the  scaffold.  Oh,  when  I  behold  thee,  I  shudder;  and 
my  own  future  rises  up  before  me  like  a  threatening  spec- 
tre! Who  can  believe  herself  safe  and  secure,  when  Anne 
Boleyn  was  not  secure;  when  even  she  had  to  die  a  dis- 
honorable death?  Ah,  do  but  believe  me,  Elizabeth,  it  is 
a  melancholy  lot  to  be  Queen  of  England;  and  often  in- 
deed have  I  asked  the  morning  whether  I,  as  still  Queen  of 
England,  shall  greet  the  evening.  But  no — we  will  not 
talk  of  myself  in  this  hour,  but  only  of  you,  Elizabeth — of 
your  future  and  of  your  fortune.  May  this  document  be 
acceptable  to  you,  and  realize  all  the  wishes  that  slumber 
in  your  bosom! " 

"  One  great  wish  of  mine  it  has  fulfilled  already,"  said 
Elizabeth,  still  occupied  with  the  picture.  "  It  allows  me 
to  show  my  mother's  likeness  unveiled!  That  I  could  one 
day  do  so  was  her  last  prayer  and  last  wish,  which  she  in- 
" trusted  to  John  Heywood  for  me.  To  him  she  committed 
this  picture.  He  alone  knew  the  secret  of  it,  and  he  has 
faithfully  preserved  it." 

"  Oh,  John  Heywood  is  a  trusty  and  true  friend,"  said 
Catharine,  heartily;  "and  it  was  he  who  assisted  me  in 
inclining  the  king  to  our  plan  and  in  persuading  him  to 
acknowledge  you." 

With  an  unutterable  expression  Elizabeth  presented 
both  hands  to  her.  "  I  thank  you  for  my  honor,  and  the 
honor  of  my  mother,"  said  she;  "  I  will  love  you  for  it  as 
a  daughter;  and  never  shall  your  enemies  find  with  me  an 
open  ear  and  a  willing  heart.  Let  us  two  conclude  with 


288  HENRY   VIII.    AND   HIS   COUKT. 

each  other  a  league  offensive  and  defensive!  Let  us  keep 
true  to  each  other;  and  the  enemies  of  the  one  shall  be 
the  enemies  of  the  other  also.  And  where  we  see  danger 
we  will  combat  it  in  common;  and  we  will  watch  over 
each  other  with  a  true  sisterly  eye,  and  warn  one  another 
whenever  a  chance  flash  brings  to  light  an  enemy  who  is 
stealing  along  in  the  darkness,  and  wants  with  his  dagger 
to  assassinate  us  from  behind." 

"  So  be  it! "  said  Catharine,  solemnly.  "  We  will  re- 
main inseparable,  and  true  to  one  another,  and  love  each 
other  as  sisters! " 

And  as  she  imprinted  a  warm  kiss  on  Elizabeth's  lips, 
she  continued:  "  But  now,  princess,  direct  your  looks  once 
more  to  that  document,  of  which  at  first  you  read  only 
the  beginning.  Do  but  believe  me,  it  is  important  enough 
for  you  to  read  it  quite  to  the  end;  for  it  contains  various 
arrangements  for  your  future,  and  settles  on  you  a  suite 
and  a  yearly  allowance,  as  is  suitable  for  a  royal  princess." 

"  Oh,  what  care  I  for  these  things?  "  cried  Elizabeth, 
merrily.  "  That  is  my  major-domo's  concern,  and  he  may 
attend  to  it." 

"  But  there  is  yet  another  paragraph  that  will  interest 
you  more,"  said  Catharine,  with  a  slight  smile;  "  for  it  is  a 
full  and  complete  reparation  to  my  proud  and  ambitious 
Elizabeth.  You  recollect  the  answer  which  your  father 
gave  to  the  King  of  France  when  he  solicited  your  hand 
for  the  dauphin?" 

"Do  I  recollect  it!"  cried  Elizabeth,  her  features 
quickly  becoming  gloomy.  "King  Henry  said:  'Anne 
Boleyn's  daughter  is  not  worthy  to  accept  the  hand  of  a 
royal  prince/  " 

"Well,  then,  Elizabeth,  that  the  reparation  made  to 
you  may  be  complete,  the  king,  while  he  grants  you  your 
lawful  title  and  honor,  has  decreed  that  you  are  permitted 
to  marry  only  a  husband  of  equal  birth;  to  give  your  hand 
only  to  a  royal  prince,  if  you  would  preserve  your  right 
of  succeeding  to  the  throne.  Oh,  certain!}',  there  could 


HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  289 

be  no  more  complete  recantation  of  the  affront  once  put 
upon  you.  And  that  he  consented  to  do  this,  you  owe  to 
the  eloquent  intercession  of  a  true  and  trusty  friend;  you 
have  John  Heywood  to  thank  for  it." 

"John  Hey  wood !"  cried  Elizabeth,  in  a  bitter  tone. 
"  Oh,  I  thank  you,  queen,  that  it  was  not  you  who  deter- 
mined my  father  to  this  decision.  John  Heywood  did  it, 
and  you  call  him  my  friend?  You  say  that  he  is  a  true 
and  devoted  servant  to  us  both?  Beware  of  his  fidelity, 
queen,  and  build  not  on  his  devotedness;  for  I  tell  you  his 
soul  is  full  of  falsehood;  and  while  he  appears  to  bow  be- 
fore you  in  humbleness,  his  eyes  are  only  searching  for  the 
place  on  your  heel  where  he  can  strike  you  most  surely 
and  most  mortally.  Oh,  he  is  a  serpent,  a  venomous  ser- 
pent; and  he  has  just  wounded  me  mortally  and  incurably. 
But  no,"  continued  she,  energetically,  "  I  will  not  submit 
to  this  fraud;  I  will  not  be  the  slave  of  this  injurious  law! 
I  will  be  free  to  love  and  to  hate  as  my  heart  demands;  I 
will  not  be  shackled,  nor  be  compelled  to  renounce  this 
man,  whom  I  perhaps  love,  and  to  marry  that  one,  whom  I 
perhaps  abhor." 

With  an  expression  of  firm,  energetic  resolve,  she  took 
the  roll  of  parchment  and  handed  it  back  to  Catharine. 

"  Queen,  take  this  parchment  back  again;  return  it  to 
my  father,  and  tell  him  that  I  thank  him  for  his  provident 
goodness,  but  will  decline  the  brilliant  lot  which  this  act 
offers  me.  I  love  freedom  so  much,  that  even  a  royal 
crown  cannot  allure  me  when  I  am  to  receive  it  with  my 
hands  bound  and  my  heart  not  free." 

"Poor  child!"  sighed  Catharine,  "you  know  not, 
then,  that  the  royal  crown  always  binds  us  in  fetters  and 
compresses  our  heart  in  iron  clamps?  Ah,  you  want  to 
be  free,  and  yet  a  queen!  Oh,  believe  me,  Elizabeth,  none 
are  less  free  than  sovereigns!  No  one  has  less  the  right 
and  the  power  to  live  according  to  the  dictates  of  his  heart 
than  a  prince." 

"  Then,"    exclaimed    Elizabeth,    with    flashing    eyes, 


290  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

"  then  I  renounce  the  melancholy  fortune  of  being,  per- 
chance, one  day  queen.  Then  1  do  not  subscribe  to  this 
law,  which  wants  to  guide  my  heart  and  limit  my  will. 
What!  shall  the  daughter  of  King  Henry  of  England  allow 
her  ways  to  be  traced  out  by  a  miserable  strip  of  parch- 
ment? and  shall  a  sheet  of  paper  be  able  to  intrude  itself 
between  me  and  my  heart?  I  am  a  royal  princess;  and 
why  will  they  compel  me  to  give  my  hand  only  to  a  king's 
son?  Ay,  you  are  right;  it  is  not  my  father  that  has  made 
this  law,  for  my  father's  proud  soul  has  never  been  willing 
to  submit  to  any  such  constraint  of  miserable  etiquette. 
He  has  loved  where  he  pleased;  and  no  Parliament — no 
law — has  been  able  to  hinder  him  in  this  respect.  I  will  be 
my  father's  own  daughter.  I  will  not  submit  to  this  law!  " 

"Poor  child!"  said  Catharine,  "nevertheless  you  will 
be  obliged  to  learn  well  how  to  submit;  for  one  is  not  a 
princess  without  paying  for  it.  No  one  asks  whether  our 
heart  bleeds.  They  throw  a  purple  robe  over  it,  and 
though  it  be  reddened  with  our  heart's  blood,  who  then 
sees  and  suspects  it?  You  are  yet  so  young,  Elizabeth; 
you  yet  hope  so  much !  " 

"  I  hope  so  much,  because  I  have  already  suffered  so 
much — my  eyes  have  been  already  made  to  shed  so  many 
tears.  I  have  already  in  my  childhood  had  to  take  before- 
hand my  share  of  the  pain  and  sorrow  of  life;  now  I  will 
demand  my  share  of  life's  pleasure  and  enjoyment  also." 

"  And  who  tells  you  that  you  shall  not  have  it?  This 
love  forces  on  you  no  particular  husband;  it  but  gives  you 
the  proud  right,  once  disputed,  of  seeking  your  husband 
among  the  princes  of  royal  blood." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Elizabeth,  with  flashing  eyes,  "  if  I  should 
ever  really  be  a  queen,  I  should  be  prouder  to  choose  a 
husband  whom  I  might  make  a  king,  than  such  a  one  as 
would  make  me  a  queen.*  Oh,  say  yourself,  Catharine, 
must  it  not  be  a  high  and  noble  pleasure  to  confer  glory 
and  greatness  on  one  we  love,  to  raise  him  in  the  omnipo- 

*  Elizabeth's  own  words. — Leti,  vol.  ii,  p.  62. 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  291 

tence  of  our  love  high  above  all  other  men,  and  to  lay  our 
own  greatness,  our  own  glory,  humbly  at  his  feet,  that 
he  may  be  adorned  therewith  and  make  his  own  possession 
what  is  ours?  " 

"  By  Heaven,  you  are  as  proud  and  ambitious  as  a 
man! "  said  Catharine,  smiling.  "  Your  father's  own 
daughter!  So  thought  Henry  when  he  gave  his  hand  to 
Anne  Boleyn;  so  thought  he  when  he  exalted  me  to  be 
his  queen.  But  it  behooves  him  thus  to  think  and  act,  for 
he  is  a  man." 

"  He  thought  thus,  because  he  loved — not  because  he 
was  a  man." 

"  And  you,  too,  Elizabeth — do  you,  too,  think  thus  be- 
cause you  love?" 

"Yes,  I  love!"  exclaimed  Elizabeth,  as  with  an  im- 
pulsive movement  she  threw  herself  into  Catharine's  arms, 
and  hid  her  blushing  face  in  the  queen's  bosom.  "  Yes,  I 
love!  I  love  like  my  father — regardless  of  my  rank,  of  my 
birth;  but  feeling  only  that  my  lover  is  of  equally  high 
birth  in  the  nobility  of  his  sentiment,  in  his  genius  and 
noble  mind;  that  he  is  my  superior  in  all  the  great  and 
fine  qualities  which  should  adorn  a  man,  and  yet  are  con- 
ferred on  so  few.  Judge  now,  queen,  whether  that  law 
there  can  make  me  happy.  He  whom  I  love  is  no  prince 
— no  son  of  a  king." 

"  Poor  Elizabeth!  "  said  Catharine,  clasping  the  young 
girl  fervently  in  her  arms. 

"  And  why  do  you  bewail  my  fate,  when  it  is  in  your 
power  to  make  me  happy?"  asked  Elizabeth,  urgently. 
"  It  was  you  who  prevailed  on  the  king  to  relieve  me  of 
the  disgrace  that  rested  on  me;  you  will  also  have  power 
over  him  to  set  aside  this  clause  which  contains  my  heart's 
sentence  of  condemnation." 

Catharine  shook  her  head  with  a  sigh.  "My  power 
does  not  reach  so  far,"  said  she,  sadly.  "  Ah,  Elizabeth, 
why  did  you  not  put  confidence  in  me?  Why  did  you  not 
let  me  know  sooner  that  your  heart  cherished  a  love  which 


292  HENBY    VIII.   AND   HI8   COUBT. 

is  in  opposition  to  this  law?  Why  did  you  not  tell  your 
friend  your  dangerous  secret?  " 

"  Just  because  it  is  dangerous  I  concealed  it  from  you; 
and  just  on  that  account  1  do  not  even  now  mention  the 
name  of  the  loved  one.  Queen,  you  shall  not  through  me 
become  a  guilty  traitoress  against  your  husband;  for  you 
well  know  that  he  punishes  every  secret  concealed  from 
him  as  an  act  of  high  treason.  No,  queen;  if  I  am  a 
criminal,  you  shall  not  be  my  accomplice.  Ah,  it  is  always 
dangerous  to  be  the  confidant  of  such  a  secret.  You  see 
that  in  John  Heywood.  He  alone  was  my  confidant,  and 
he  betrayed  me.  I  myself  put  the  weapons  into  his  hands, 
and  he  turned  them  against  me." 

"No,  no,"  said  Catharine,  thoughtfully;  "John  Hey- 
wood is  true  and  trusty,  and  incapable  of  treachery." 

"He  has  betrayed  me!"  exclaimed  Elizabeth,  impetu- 
ously. "  He  knew — he  only — that  I  love,  and  that  my 
beloved,  though  of  noble,  still  is  not  of  princely  birth. 
Yet  it  was  he,  as  you  said  yourself,  who  moved  the 
king  to  introduce  this  paragraph  into  the  act  of  succes- 
sion." 

"  Then,  without  doubt,  he  has  wished  to  save  you 
from  an  error  of  your  heart." 

"  No,  he  has  been  afraid  of  the  danger  of  being  privy 
to  this  secret,  and  at  the  cost  of  my  heart  and  my  happi- 
ness he  wanted  to  escape  this  danger.  But  oh,  Catharine, 
you  are  a  noble,  great  and  strong  woman;  you  are  incapa- 
ble of  such  petty  fear — such  low  calculation;  therefore, 
stand  by  me;  be  my  savior  and  protectress!  By  virtue  of 
that  oath  which  we  have  just  now  mutually  taken — by 
virtue  of  that  mutual  clasp  of  the  hands  just  given — I  call 
you  to  my  help  and  my  assistance.  Oh,  Catharine,  allow 
me  this  high  pleasure,  so  full  of  blessing,  of  being  at  some 
time,  perhaps,  able  to  make  him  whom  I  love  great  and 
powerful  by  my  will.  Allow  me  this  intoxicating  delight 
of  being  able  with  my  hand  to  offer  to  his  ambition  at  once 
power  and  glory — it  may  be  even  a  crown.  Oh,  Catharine, 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS    COURT.  293 

on  my  knees  I  conjure  you — assist  me  to  repeal  this  hated 
law,  which  wants  to  bind  my  heart  and  my  hand!  " 

In  passionate  excitement  she  had  fallen  before  the 
queen,  and  was  holding  up  her  hands  imploringly  to  her. 

Catharine,  smiling,  bent  down  and  raised  her  up  in  her 
arms.  "Enthusiast,"  said  she,  "poor  young  enthusiast! 
Who  knows  whether  you  will  thank  me  for  it  one  day,  if  I 
accede  to  your  wish;  and  whether  you  will  not  some  time 
curse  this  hour  which  has  brought  you,  perhaps,  instead 
of  the  hoped-for  pleasure,  only  a  knowledge  of  your  de- 
lusion and  misery?" 

"  And  were  it  even  so,"  cried  Elizabeth,  energetically, 
"still  it  is  better  to  endure  a  wretchedness  we  ourselves 
have  chosen,  than  to  be  forced  to  a  happy  lot.  Say,  Catha- 
rine— say,  will  you  lend  me  your  assistance?  Will  you  in- 
duce the  king  to  withdraw  this  hated  clause  ?  If  you  do  it 
not,  queen,  I  swear  to  you,  by  the  soul  of  my  mother,  that 
I  will  not  submit  to  this  law;  that  I  will  solemnly,  before 
all  the  world,  renounce  the  privilege  that  is  offered  me; 
that  I " 

"  You  are  a  dear,  foolish  child,"  interrupted  Catha- 
rine— "  a  child,  that  in  youthful  presumption  might  dare 
wish  to  fetch  the  lightnings  down  from  heaven,  and  bor- 
row from  Jupiter  his  thunderbolt.  Oh,  you  are  still  too 
young  and  inexperienced  to  know  that  fate  regards  not 
our  murmurs  and  our  sighs,  and,  despite  our  reluctance 
and  our  refusal,  still  leads  us  in  its  own  ways,  not  our 
own.  You  will  have  to  learn  that  yet,  poor  child!  " 

"But  I  will  not!"  cried  Elizabeth,  stamping  on  the 
floor  with  all  the  pettishness  of  a  child.  "  I  will  not  ever 
and  eternally  be  the  victim  of  another's  will;  and  fate  it- 
self shall  not  have  power  to  make  me  its  slave!  " 

"Well,  we  will  see  now/'  said  Catharine,  smiling. 
"  We  will  try  this  time,  at  least,  to  contend  against  fate; 
and  I  will  assist  you  if  I  can." 

"  And  I  will  love  you  for  it  as  my  mother  and  my  sister 
at  once,"  cried  Elizabeth,  as  with  ardor  she  threw  herself 


294:  HENRY    VI11.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

into  Catharine's  arms.  "  Yes,  I  will  love  you  for  it;  and 
I  will  pray  God  that  He  may  one  day  give  me  the  oppor- 
tunity to  show  my  gratitude,  and  to  reward  you  for  your 
magnanimity  and  goodness/' 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

INTRIGUES. 

FOR  a  few  days  past  the  king's  gout  had  grown  worse, 
and,  to  his  wrath  and  grief,  it  confined  him  as  a  prisoner  to 
his  rolling  chair. 

The  king  was,  therefore,  very  naturally  gloomy  and  de- 
jected, and  hurled  the  lightnings  of  his  wrath  on  all  those 
who  enjoyed  the  melancholy  prerogative  of  being  in  his 
presence.  His  pains,  instead  of  softening  his  disposition, 
seemed  only  to  heighten  still  more  his  natural  ferocity; 
and  often  might  be  heard  through  the  palace  of  White- 
hall the  king's  angry  growl,  and  his  loud,  thundering  in- 
vectives, which  no  longer  spared  any  one,  nor  showed  re- 
spect for  any  rank  or  dignity. 

Earl  Douglas,  Gardiner,  and  Wriothesley  very  well 
knew  how  to  take  advantage  of  this  wrathful  humor  of  the 
king  for  their  purposes,  and  to  afford  the  cruel  monarch, 
tortured  with  pain,  one  satisfaction  at  least — the  satisfac- 
tion of  making  others  suffer  also. 

Never  had  there  been  seen  in  England  so  many  burnt 
at  the  stake  as  in  those  days  of  the  king's  sickness;  never 
had  the  prisons  been  so  crowded;  never  had  so  much  blood 
flowed  as  King  Henry  now  caused  to  be  shed.* 

•  During  the  king's  reign,  and  at  the  instigation  of  the  clergy, 
twenty-eight  hundred  persons  were  burnt  and  executed,  because  they 
would  not  recognize  the  religious  institutions  established  by  the  king 
as  the  only  right  and  true  ones. — Leti,  vol.  i,  p.  84. 


HENEY   VIII.   AND  HIS   COURT.  395 

But  all  this  did  not  yet  suffice  to  appease  the  blood- 
thirstiness  of  the  king,  and  his  friends  and  counsellors,  and 
his  priests. 

Still  there  remained  untouched  two  mighty  pillars  of 
Protestantism  that  Gardiner  and  Wriothesley  had  to  over- 
throw. These  were  the  queen  and  Archbishop  Cranmer. 

Still  there  were  two  powerful  and  hated  enemies  whom 
the  Seymours  had  to  overcome;  these  were  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk  and  his  son,  the  Earl  of  Surrey. 

But  the  various  parties  that  in  turn  besieged  the 
king's  ear  and  controlled  it,  were  in  singular  and  unheard- 
of  opposition,  and  at  the  same  time  inflamed  with  bitter- 
est enmity,  and  they  strove  to  supplant  each  other  in  the 
favor  of  the  king. 

To  the  popish  party  of  Gardiner  and  Earl  Douglas, 
everything  depended  on  dispossessing  the  Seymours  of 
the  king's  favor;  and  they,  on  the  other  hand,  wanted 
above  all  things  to  continue  in  power  the  young  queen,  al- 
ready inclined  to  them,  and  to  destroy  for  the  papists  one 
of  their  most  powerful  leaders,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk. 

The  one  party  controlled  the  king's  ear  through  the 
queen;  the  other,  through  his  favorite,  Earl  Douglas. 

Never  had  the  king  been  more  gracious  and  affable  to 
his  consort — never  had  he  required  more  Earl  Douglas's 
presence  than  in  those  days  of  his  sickness  and  bodily 
anguish. 

But  there  was  yet  a  third  party  that  occupied  an  im- 
portant place  in  the  king's  favor — a  power  which  every  one 
feared,  and  which  seemed  to  keep  itself  perfectly  inde- 
pendent and  free  from  all  foreign  influences.  This  power 
was  John  Heywood,  the  king's  fool,  the  epigrammatist, 
who  was  dreaded  by  the  whole  court. 

Only  one  person  had  influence  with  him.  John  Hey- 
wood was  the  friend  of  the  queen.  For  the  moment,  then, 
it  appeared  as  if  the  "  heretical  party,"  of  which  the  queen 
was  regarded  as  the  head,  was  the  most  powerful  at  court. 

It  was  therefore  very  natural  for  the  popish  party  to 


296  HENBY   VIU.   A2tt>   HIS   COURT. 

cherish  an  ardent  hatred  against  the  queen;  very  natural 
for  them  to  be  contriving  new  plots  and  machinations  to 
ruin  her  and  hurl  her  from  the  throne. 

But  Catharine  knew  very  well  the  danger  that  threat- 
ened her,  and  she  was  on  her  guard.  She  watched  her 
every  look,  her  every  word;  and  Gardiner  and  Douglas 
could  not  examine  the  queen's  manner  of  life  each  day  and 
hour  more  suspiciously  than  she  herself  did. 

She  saw  the  sword  that  hung  daily  over  her  head;  and, 
thanks  to  her  prudence  and  presence  of  mind,  thanks  to 
the  ever-thoughtful  watchfulness  and  cunning  of  her 
friend  Hey  wood!  she  had  still  known  how  to  avoid  the 
falling  of  that  sword. 

Since  that  fatal  ride  in  the  wood  of  Epping  Forest,  she 
had  not  again  spoken  to  Thomas  Seymour  alone;  for  Cath- 
arine very  well  knew  that  everywhere,  whithersoever  she 
turned  her  steps,  some  spying  eye  might  follow  her,  some 
listener's  ear  might  be  concealed,  which  might  hear  her 
words,  however  softly  whispered,  and  repeat  them  where 
they  might  be  interpreted  into  a  sentence  of  death  against 
her. 

She  had,  therefore,  renounced  the  pleasure  of  speaking 
to  her  lover  otherwise  than  before  witnesses,  and  of  seeing 
him  otherwise  than  in  the  presence  of  her  whole  court. 

What  need  had  she  either  for  secret  meetings?  What 
mattered  it  to  her  pure  and  innocent  heart  that  she  was 
not  permitted  to  be  alone  with  him?  Still  she  might  see 
him,  and  drink  courage  and  delight  from  the  sight  of  his 
haughty  and  handsome  face;  still  she  might  be  near  him, 
and  could  listen  to  the  music  of  his  voice,  and  intoxicate 
her  heart  with  his  fine,  euphonious  and  vigorous  discourse. 
.  Catharine,  the  woman  of  eight-and-twenty,  had  pre- 
served the  enthusiasm  and  innocence  of  a  young  girl  of 
fourteen.  Thomas  Seymour  was  her  first  love;  and  she 
loved  him  with  that  purity  and  guileless  warmth  which  is 
indeed  peculiar  to  the  first  love  only. 

It  sufficed  her,  therefore,  to  see  him;  to  be  near  him; 


HENRY   VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  297 

to  know  that  he  loved  her;  that  he  was  true  to  her;  that 
all  his  thoughts  and  wishes  belonged  to  her,  as  hers  to  him. 

And  that  she  knew.  For  there  ever  remained  to  her 
the  sweet  enjoyment  of  his  letters — of  those  passionately 
written  avowals  of  his  love.  If  she  was  not  permitted 
to  say  also  to  him  how  warmly  and  ardently  she  returned 
this  love,  yet  she  could  write  it  to  him. 

It  was  John  Heywood,  the  true  and  discreet  friend, 
that  brought  her  these  letters,  and  bore  her  answers  to 
him,  stipulating,  as  a  reward  for  this  dangerous  commis- 
sion, that  they  both  should  regard  him  as  the  sole  confi- 
dant of  their  love;  that  both  should  burn  up  the  letters 
which  he  brought  them.  He  had  not  been  able  to  hinder 
Catharine  from  this  unhappy  passion,  but  wanted  at  least 
to  preserve  her  from  the  fatal  consequences  of  it.  Since 
he  knew  that  this  love  needed  a  confidant,  he  assumed  this 
role,  that  Catharine,  in  the  vehemence  of  her  passion  and 
in  the  simplicity  of  her  innocent  heart,  might  not  make 
others  sharers  of  her  dangerous  secret. 

John  Heywood  therefore  watched  over  Catharine's 
safety  and  happiness,  as  she  watched  over  Thomas  Sey- 
mour and  her  friends.  He  protected  and  guarded  her 
with  the  king,  as  she  guarded  Cranmer,  and  protected  him 
from  the  constantly  renewed  assaults  of  his  enemies. 

This  it  was  that  they  could  never  forgive  the  queen — 
that  she  had  delivered  Cranmer,  the  noble  and  liberal- 
minded  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  from  their  snares. 
More  than  once  Catharine  had  succeeded  in  destroying 
their  intriguing  schemes,  and  in  rending  the  nets  that 
Gardiner  and  Earl  Douglas,  with  so  sly  and  skilful  a  hand, 
had  spread  for  Cranmer. 

If,  therefore,  they  would  overthrow  Cranmer,  they 
must  first  overthrow  the  queen.  For  this  there  was  a  real 
means — a  means  of  destroying  at  once  the  queen  and  the 
hated  Seymours,  who  stood  in  the  way  of  the  papists. 

if  they  could  prove  to  the  king  that  Catharine  enter- 
tained criminal  intercourse  with  Thomas  Seymour,  then 
20 


298  HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

were  they  both  lost;  then  were  the  power  and  glory  of  the 
papists  secured. 

But  whence  to  fetch  the  proofs  of  this  dangerous  se- 
cret, which  the  crafty  Douglas  had  read  only  in  Catharine's 
eyes,  and  for  which  he  had  no  other  support  than  his  bare 
conviction?  How  should  they  begin  to  influence  the 
queen  to  some  inconsiderate  step,  to  a  speaking  witness  of 
her  love? 

Time  hung  so  heavily  on  the  king's  hands!  It  would 
have  been  so  easy  to  persuade  him  to  some  cruel  deed — to 
a  hasty  sentence  of  death! 

But  it  was  not  the  blood  of  .the  Seymours  for  which 
the  king  thirsted.  Earl  Douglas  very  well  knew  that. 
He  who  observed  the  king  day  and  night — he  who  exam- 
ined and  sounded  his  every  sigh,  each  of  his  softly  mur- 
mured words,  every  twitch  of  his  mouth,  every  wrinkle  of 
his  brow — he  well  knew  what  dark  and  bloody  thoughts 
stirred  the  king's  soul,  and  whose  blood  it  was  for  which 
he  thirsted. 

The  royal  tiger  would  drink  the  blood  of  the  How- 
ards; and  that  they  still  lived  in  health,  and  abun- 
dance, and  glory,  while  he,  their  king  and  master,  lonely 
and  sad,  was  tossing  on  his  couch  in  pain  and  agony — 
that  was  the  worm  which  gnawed  at  the  king's  heart, 
which  made  his  pains  yet  more  painful,  his  tortures  yet 
keener. 

The  king  was  jealous — jealous  of  the  power  and  great- 
ness of  the  Howards.  It  filled  him  with  gloomy  hatred  to 
think  that  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  when  he  rode  through 
the  streets  of  London,  was  everywhere  received  with  the 
acclamations  and  rejoicing  of  the  people,  while  he,  the 
king,  was  a  prisoner  in  his  palace.  It  was  a  gnawing  pain 
for  him  to  know  that  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey,  was 
praised  as  the  handsomest  and  greatest  man  of  England; 
that  he  was  called  the  noblest  poet;  the  greatest  scholar; 
while  yet  he,  the  king,  had  also  composed  his  poems  and 
written  his  learned  treatises,  aye,  even  a  particular  devout 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  299 

book,  which  he  had  printed  for  his  people,  and  ordered 
them  to  read  instead  of  the  Bible.* 

It  was  the  Howards  who  everywhere  disputed  his  fame. 
The  Howards  supplanted  him  in  the  favor  of  his  people, 
and  usurped  the  love  and  admiration  which  were  due  to 
the  king  alone,  and  which  should  be  directed  toward  no 
one  but  him.  He  lay  on  his  bed  of  pain,  and  without 
doubt  the  people  would  have  forgotten  him,  if  he  had 
not  by  the  block,  the  stake,  and  the  scaffold,  daily  re- 
minded them  of  himself.  He  lay  on  his  bed  of  pain,  while 
the  duke,  splendid  and  magnificent,  exhibited  himself  to 
the  people  and  transported  them  with  enthusiasm  by  the 
lavish  and  kingly  generosity  with  which  he  scattered  his 
money  among  the  populace. 

Yes,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  was  the  king's  dangerous 
rival.  The  crown  was  hot  secure  upon  his  head  so  long  as 
the  Howards  lived.  And  who  could  conjecture  whether 
in  time  to  come,  when  Henry  closed  his  eyes,  the  exultant 
love  of  the  people  might  not  call  to  the  throne  the  Duke 
of  Norfolk,  or  his  noble  son,  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  instead 
of  the  rightful  heir — instead  of  the  little  boy  Edward, 
Henry's  only  son? 

When  the  king  thought  of  that,  he  had  a  feeling  as 
though  a  stream  of  fire  were  whirling  up  to  his  brain;  and  he 
convulsively  clenched  his  hands,  and  screamed  and  roared 
that  he  would  take  vengeance — vengeance  on  those  hated 
Howards,  who  wanted  to  snatch  the  crown  from  his  son. 

Edward,  the  little  boy  of  tender  age — he  alone  was  the 
.divinely  consecrated,  legitimate  heir  to  the  king's  crown. 
It  had  cost  his  father  so  great  a  sacrifice  to  give  his  people 
this  son  and  successor!  In  order  to  do  it,  he  had  sacrificed 
Jane  Seymour,  his  own  beloved  wife;  he  had  let  the  moth- 
er be  put  to  death,  in  order  to  preserve  the  son,  the  heir  of 
his  crown. 

And  the  people  did  not  once  thank  the  king  for  this 
sacrifice  that  Jane  Seymour's  husband  had  made  for  them. 

*  Burnet,  vol.  i,  p.  95. 


300  HKXBY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

The  people  received  with  shouts  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  the 
father  of  that  adulterous  queen  whom  Henry  loved  so 
much  that  her  infidelity  had  struck  him  like  the  stab  of 
a  poisoned  dagger. 

These  were  the  thoughts  that  occupied  the  king  on  his 
bed  of  pain,  and  upon  which  he  dwelt  with  all  the  wilful- 
ness  and  moodiness  of  a  sick  man. 

"  We  shall  have  to  sacrifice  these  Howards  to  him! " 
said  Earl  Douglas  to  Gardiner,  as  they  had  just  again  lis- 
tened to  a  burst  of  rage  from  their  royal  master.  "  If  we 
would  at  last  succeed  in  ruining  the  queen,  we  must  first 
destroy  the  Howards." 

The  pious  bishop  looked  at  him  inquiringly,  and  in 
astonishment. 

Earl  Douglas  smiled.  "Your  highness  is  too  exalted 
and  noble  to  be  always  able  to  comprehend  the  things  of 
this  world.  Your  look,  which  seeks  only  God  and  heaven, 
does  not  always  see  the  petty  and  pitiful  things  that  hap- 
pen here  on  the  earth  below." 

"  Oh,  but,"  said  Gardiner,  with  a  cruel  smile,  "  I  see 
them,  and  it  charms  my  eye  when  I  see  how  God's  ven- 
geance punishes  the  enemies  of  the  Church  here  on  earth. 
Set  iip  then,  by  all  means,  a  stake  or  a  scaffold  for  these 
Howards,  if  their  death  can  be  to  us  a  means  to  our  pious 
and  godly  end.  You  are  certain  of  my  blessing  and  my 
assistance.  Only  I  do  not  quite  comprehend  how  the 
Howards  can  stand  in  the  way  of  our  plots  which  are 
formed  against  the  queen,  inasmuch  as  they  are  num- 
bered among  the  queen's  enemies,  and  profess  them- 
selves of  the  Church  in  which  alone  is  salvation." 

"  The  Earl  of  Surrey  is  an  apostate,  who  has  opened  his 
ear  and  heart  to  the  doctrines  of  Calvin! " 

"  Then  let  his  head  fall,  for  he  is  a  criminal  before  God, 
and  no  one  ought  to  have  compassion  on  him!  And  what 
is  there  that  we  lay  to  the  charge  of  the  father?  " 

"  The  Duke  of  Norfolk  is  well-nigh  yet  more  danger- 
ous than  his  son;  for  although  a  Catholic,  he  has  not  never- 


HENBY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  30! 

theless  the  right  faith;  and  his  soul  is  full  of  unholy  sym- 
pathy and  injurious  mildness.  He  bewails  those  whose 
blood  is  shed  because  they  were  devoted  to  the  false  doc- 
trine of  the  priests  of  Baal;  and  he  calls  us  both  the  king's 
blood-hounds." 

"  Well,  then,  cried  Gardiner  with  an  uneasy,  dismal 
smile,  "  we  will  show  him  that  he  has  called  us  by  the  right 
name;  we  will  rend  him  in  pieces!  " 

"  Besides,  as  we  have  said,  the  Howards  stand  in  the 
way  of  our  schemes  in  relation  to  the  queen,"  said  Earl 
Douglas,  earnestly.  "  The  king's  mind  is  so  completely 
filled  with  this  one  hatred  and  this  one  jealousy,  that  there 
is  no  room  in  it  for  any  other  feeling,  for  any  other  hate. 
It  is  true  he  signs  often  enough  these  death-warrants 
which  we  lay  before  him;  but  he  does  it,  as  the  lion,  with 
utter  carelessness  and  without  anger,  crushes  the  little 
mouse  that  is  by  chance  under  his  paws.  But  if  the  lion 
is  to  rend  in  pieces  his  equal,  he  must  beforehand  be  put 
into  a  rage.  When  he  is  raging,  then  you  must  let  him 
have  his  prey.  The  Howards  shall  be  his  first  prey.  But, 
then,  we  must  exert  ourselves,  that  when  the  lion  again 
shakes  his  mane  his  wrath  may  fall  upon  Catharine  Parr 
and  the  Seymours." 

"  The  Lord  our  God  will  be  with  us,  and  enlighten  us, 
that  we  may  find  the  right  means  to  strike  His  enemies  a 
sure  blow!"  exclaimed  Gardiner,  devoutly  folding  his 
hands. 

"I  believe  the  right  means  are  already  found,"  said 
Earl  Douglas,  with  a  smile;  "and  even  before  this  day 
descends  to  its  close,  the  gates  of  the  Tower  will  open  to 
receive  this  haughty  and  sof t-hearted  Duke  of  Norfolk 
and  this  apostate  Earl  Surrey.  Perchance  we  may  even 
succeed  in  striking  at  one  blow  the  queen  together  with 
the  Howards.  See!  an  equipage  stops  before  the  grand 
entrance,  and  I  see  the  Duchess  of  Norfolk  and  her  daugh- 
ter, the  Duchess  of  Richmond,  getting  out  of  the  carriage. 
Only-  see!  they  are  making  signs  to  us.  I  have  promised 


302  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

to  conduct  these  two  noble  and  pious  ladies  to  the  king, 
and  I  shall  do  so.  Whilst  we  are  there,  pray  for  us,  your 
highness,  that  our  words,  like  well-aimed  arrows,  may 
strike  the  king's  heart,  and  then  rebound  upon  the  queen 
and  the  Seymours! " 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

THE   ACCUSATION. 

IN  vain  had  the  king  hoped  to  master  his  pains,  or  at 
least  to  forget  them,  while  he  tried  to  sleep.  Sleep  had 
fled  from  the  king's  couch;  and  as  he  now  sat  in  his  roll- 
ing-chair, sad,  weary,  and  harassed  with  pain,  he  thought, 
with  gloomy  spite,  that  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  told  him  but 
yesterday  that  sleep  was  a  thing  under  his  control,  and  he 
could  summon  it  to  him  whenever  it  seemed  good  to  him. 

This  thought  made  him  raving  with  anger;  and  grind- 
ing his  teeth,  he  muttered:  "  He  can  sleep;  and  I,  his  lord 
and  king — I  am  a  beggar  that  in  vain  whines  to  God  above 
for  a  little  sleep,  a  little  forgetfulness  of  his  pains!  But 
it  is  this  traitorous  Norfolk  that  prevents  me  from  sleep- 
ing. Thoughts  of  him  keep  me  awake  and  restless.  And 
I  cannot  crush  this  traitor  with  these  hands  of  mine;  I  am 
a  king,  and  yet  so  powerless  and  weak,  that  I  can  find  no 
means  of  accusing  this  traitor,  and  convicting  him  of  his 
sinful  and  blasphemous  deeds.  Oh,  where  may  I  find  him 
— that  true  friend,  that  devoted  servant,  who  ventures  to 
understand  my  unuttered  thoughts,  and  fulfil  the  wishes 
to  which  I  dare  not  give  a  name?  " 

Just  as  he  was  thus  thinking,  the  door  behind  him 
opened  and  in  walked  Earl  Douglas.  His  countenance 
was  proud  and  triumphant,  and  so  wild  a  joy  gleamed  from 
his  eyes  that  even  the  king  was  surprised  at  it. 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  peevishly,  "  you  call  yourself  my  friend; 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  3Q3 

and  you  are  cheerful,  Douglas,  while  your  king  is  a  poor 
prisoner  whom  the  gout  has  chained  with  brazen  bands  to 
this  chair." 

"  You  will  recover,  my  king,  and  go  forth  from  this  im- 
prisonment as  the  conqueror,  dazzling  and  bright,  that  by 
his  appearance  under  God's  blessing  treads  all  his  enemict- 
in  the  dust — that  triumphs  over  all  those  who  are  against 
him,  and  would  betray  their  king! " 

"  Are  there,  then,  any  such  traitors,  who  threaten  their 
king?  "  asked  Henry,  with  a  dark  frown. 

"  Ay,  there  are  such  traitors!  " 

"  Name  them  to  me ! "  said  the  king,  trembling  with 
passionate  impatience.  "  Name  them  to  me,  that  my  arm 
may  crush  them  and  my  avenging  justice  overtake  the 
heads  of  the  guilty." 

"  It  is  superfluous  to  mention  them,  for  you,  King 
Henry,  the  wise  and  all-knowing — you  know  their  names." 

And  bending  down  closer  to  the  king's  ear,  Earl  Doug- 
las continued:  "King  Henry,  I  certainly  have  a  right  to 
call  myself  your  most  faithful  and  devoted  servant,  for  I 
have  read  your  thoughts.  I  have  understood  the  noble 
grief  that  disturbs  your  heart,  and  banishes  sleep  from 
your  eyes  and  peace  from  your  soul.  You  saw  the  foe  that 
was  creeping  in  the  dark;  you  heard  the  low  hiss  of  the 
serpent  that  was  darting  his  venomous  sting  at  your  heel. 
But  you  were  so  much  the  -noble  and  intrepid  king,  that 
you  would  not  yourself  become  the  accuser — nay,  you 
would  not  once  draw  back  the  foot  menaced  by  the  serpent. 
Great  and  merciful,  like  God  Himself,  you  smiled  upon 
him  whom  you  knew  to  be  your  enemy.  But  I,  my  king — 
I  have  other  duties.  I  am  like  the  faithful  dog,  that  has 
eyes  only  for  the  safety  of  his  master,  and  falls  upon  every 
one  that  comes  to  menace  him.  I  have  seen  the  serpent 
that  would  kill  you,  and  I  will  bruise  his  head!  " 

"And  what  is  the  name  of  this  serpent  of  which  you 
speak?"  asked  the  king;  and  his  heart  beat  so  boisterous- 
ly that  he  felt  it  on  his  trembling  lips. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COUKT. 

"  It  is  called,"  said  Earl  Douglas,  earnestly  and  sol- 
emnly— "  it  is  called  Howard !  " 

The  king  uttered  a  cry,  and,  forgetting  his  gout  and 
his  pains,  arose  from  his  chair. 

"Howard!''  said  he,  with  a  cruel  smile.  "Say  you 
that  a  Howard  threatens  our  life?  Which  one  is  it? 
Name  me  the  traitor! " 

"  I  name  them  both — father  and  son!  I  name  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk  and  the  Earl  of  Surrey!  I  say  that  they 
both  are  traitors,  who  threaten  the  life  and  honor  of  my 
king,  and  with  blasphemous  arrogance  dare  stretch  out 
their  hands  even  to  the  crown! " 

"Ah,  I  knew  it,  I  knew  it!"  screamed  the  king. 
"  And  it  was  this  that  made  me  sleepless,  and  ate  into  my 
body  like  red-hot  iron." 

And  as  he  fastened  on  Douglas  his  eyes  flashing  with 
rage,  he  asked,  with  a  grim  smile:  "Can  you  prove  that 
these  Howards  are  traitors?  Can  you  prove  that  they  aim 
at  my  crown?" 

"  I  hope  to  be  able  to  do  so,"  said  Douglas.  "  To  be 
sure,  there  are  no  great  convincing  facts " 

"  Oh,"  said  the  king,  interrupting  him  with  a  savage 
laugh,  "  there  is  no  need  of  great  facts.  Give  into  my 
hand  but  a  little  thread,  and  I  will  make  out  of  it  a  cord 
strong  enough  to  haul  the  father  and  son  up  to  the  gallows 
at  one  time." 

"  Oh,  for  the  son  there  is  proof  enough,"  said  the  earl, 
with  a  smile;  "and  as  regards  the  father,  I  will  produce 
your  majesty  some  accusers  against  him,  who  will  be  im- 
portant enough  to  bring  the  duke  also  to  the  block.  Will 
you  allow  me  to  bring  them  to  you  immediately?  " 

"Yes,  bring  them,  bring  them!"  cried  the  king. 
"Every  minute  is  precious  that  may  lead  these  traitors 
sooner  to  their  punishment." 

Earl  Douglas  stepped  to  the  door  and  opened  it. 
Three  veiled  female  figures  entered  and  bowed  rever- 
entially. 


HENKY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  305 

"Ah,"  whispered  the  king,  with  a  cruel  smile,  as  he 
sank  back  again  into  his  chair,  "  they  are  the  three  Fates 
that  spin  the  Howards'  thread  of  life,  and  will  now,  it  is 
to  be  hoped,  break  it  off.  I  will  furnish  them  with  the 
scissors  for  it;  and  if  they  are  not  sharp  enough,  I  will, 
with  my  own  royal  hands,  help  them  to  break  the  thread." 

"  Sire,"  said  Earl  Douglas,  as,  at  a  sign  from  him,  the 
three  women  unveiled  themselves — "  sire,  the  wife,  the 
daughter,  and  the  mistress  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  have 
come  to  accuse  him  of  high  treason.  The  mother  and  the 
sister  of  the  Earl  of  Surrey  are  here  to  charge  him  with  a 
crime  equally  worthy  of  death." 

"  Now  verily,"  exclaimed  the  king,  "  it  must  be  a  griev- 
ous and  blasphemous  sin  which  so  much  exasperates  the 
temper  of  these  noble  women,  and  makes  them  deaf  to 
the  voice  of  nature! " 

"  It  is  indeed  such  a  sin,"  said  the  Duchess  of  Norfolk, 
in  a  solemn  tone;  and,  approaching  a  few  paces  nearer  to 
the  king,  she  continued:  "Sire,  I  accuse  the  duke,  my 
divorced  husband,  of  high  treason  and  disloyalty  to  his 
king.  He  has  been  so  bold  as  to  appropriate  your  own 
royal  coat-of-arms;  and  on  his  seal  and  equipage,  and  over 
the  entrance  of  his  palace,  are  displayed  the  arms  of  the 
kings  of  England." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  the  king,  who,  now  that  he  was 
certain  of  the  destruction  of  the  Howards,  had  regained 
his  calmness  and  self-possession,  and  perfectly  reassumed 
the  air  of  a  strict,  impartial  judge.  "  Yes,  he  bears  the 
royal  arms  on  his  shield,  but  yet,  if  we  remember  rightly, 
the  crown  and  paraph  of  our  ancestor  Edward  the  Third 
are  wanting." 

"  He  has  now  added  this  crown  and  this  paraph  to  his 
coat-of-arms,"  said  Miss  Holland.  "  He  says  he  is  entitled 
to  them;  for  that,  like  the  king,  he  also  is  descended  in 
direct  line  from  Edward  the  Third;  and,  therefore,  the 
royal  arms  belong  likewise  to  him." 

"  If  he  says  that,  he  is  a  traitor  who  presumes  to  call 


306  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

his  king  and  master  his  equal,"  cried  the  king,  coloring  up 
with  a  grim  joy  at  now  at  length  having  his  enemy  in  his 
power. 

"  He  is  indeed  a  traitor,"  continued  Miss  Holland. 
"  Often  have  I  heard  him  say  he  had  the  same  right  to  the 
throne  of  England  as  Henry  the  Eighth;  and  that  a  day 
might  come  when  he  would  contend  with  Henry's  son  for 
that  crown." 

"  Ah,"  cried  the  king,  and  his  eyes  darted  flashes  so 
fierce  that  even  Earl  Douglas  shrank  before  them,  "  ah,  he 
will  contend  with  my  son  for  the  crown  of  England!  It  is 
well,  now;  for  now  it  is  my  sacred  duty,  as  a  king  and  as  a 
father,  to  crush  this  serpent  that  wants  to  bite  me  on  the 
heel;  and  no  compassion  and  no  pity  ought  now  to  restrain 
me  longer.  And  were  there  no  other  proofs  of  his  guilt 
and  his  crime  than  these  words  that  he  has  spoken  to  you, 
yet  are  they  sufficient,  and  will  rise  up  against  him,  like 
the  hangman's  aids  who  are  to  conduct  him  to  the  block." 

"  But  there  are  yet  other  proofs,"  said  Miss  Holland, 
laconically. 

The  king  was  obliged  to  unbutton  his  doublet.  It 
seemed  as  though  joy  would  suffocate  him. 

"  Name  them!  "  commanded  he. 

"  He  dares  deny  the  king's  supremacy;  he  calls  the 
Bishop  of  Rome  the  sole  head  and  holy  Father  of  the 
Church." 

"Ah,  does  he  so?"  exclaimed  the  king,  laughing. 
"  Well,  we  shall  see  now  whether  this  holy  Father  will 
save  this  faithful  son  from  the  scaffold  which  we  will  erect 
for  him.  Yes,  yes,  we  must  give  the  world  a  new  example 
of  our  incorruptible  justice,  which  overtakes  every  one, 
however  high  and  mighty  he  may  be,  and  however  near 
our  throne  he  may  stand.  Really,  really,  it  grieves  our 
heart  to  lay  low  this  oak  which  we  had  planted  so  near 
our  throne,  that  we  might  lean  upon  it  and  support  our- 
selves by  it;  but  justice  demands  this  sacrifice,  and  we  will 
make  it — not  in  wrath  and  .«'pite,  but  only  to  meet  the 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  307 

sacred  and  painful  duty  of  our  royalty.  We  have  greatly 
loved  this  duke,-and  it  grieves  us  to  tear  this  love  from 
our  heart." 

And  with  his  hand,  glittering  with  jewels,  the  king 
wiped  from  his  eyes  the  tears  which  were  not  there. 

"  But  how?  "  asked  the  king,  then,  after  a  pause,  "  will 
you  have  the  courage  to  repeat  your  accusation  publicly 
before  Parliament?  Will  you,  his  wife,  and  you,  his  mis-- 
tress, publicly  swear  with  a  sacred  oath  to  the  truth  of  your 
declaration?  " 

"I  will  do  so,"  said  the  duchess,  solemnly,  "for  he  is 
no  longer  my  husband,  no  longer  the  father  of  my  chil- 
dren, but  simply  the  enemy  of  my  king;  and  to  serve  him 
is  my  most  sacred  duty." 

"  I  will  do  so,"  cried  Miss  Holland,  with  a  bewitching 
smile;  "  for  he  is  no  longer  my  lover,  but  only  a  traitor,  an 
atheist,  who  is  audacious  enough  to  recognize  as  the  holy 
head  of  Christendom  that  man  at  Eome  who  has  dared  to 
hurl  his  curse  against  the  sublime  head  of  our  king.  It  is 
this,  indeed,  that  has  torn  my  heart  from  the  duke,  and 
that  has  made  me  now  hate  him  as  ardently  as  I  once  loved 
him." 

With  a  gracious  smile,  the  king  presented  both  his 
hands  to  the  two  women.  "  You  have  done  me  a  great 
service  to-day,  my  ladies,"  said  he,  "  and  I  will  find  a  way 
to  reward  you  for  it.  I  will  give  you,  duchess,  the  half  of 
his  estate,  as  though  you  were  his  rightful  heir  and  lawful 
widow.  And  you,  Miss  Holland,  I  will  leave  in  undisputed 
possession  of  all  the  goods  and  treasures  that  the  enam- 
ored duke  has  given  you." 

The  two  ladies  broke  out  into  loud  expressions  of 
thanks  and  into  enthusiastic  rapture  over  the  liberal  and 
generous  king,  who  was  so  gracious  as  to  give  them  what 
they  already  had,  and  to  bestow  on  them  what  was  already 
their  own  property. 

"  Well,  and  are  you  wholly  mute,  my  little  duchess," 
asked  the  king  after  a  pause,  turning  to  the  Duchess  of 


HENRY    VUI.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

Richmond,  who  had  withdrawn  to  the  embrasure  of  a 
window. 

"  Sire,"  said  the  duchess,  smiling,  "  I  was  only  waiting 
for  my  cue." 

"  And  this  cue  is " 

"Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey!  As  your  majesty 
knows,  I  am  a  merry  and  harmless  woman;  and  I  under- 
stand better  how  to  laugh  and  joke  than  to  talk  much  seri- 
ously. The  two  noble  and  fair  ladies  have  accused  the 
duke,  my  father;  and  they  have  done  so, in  a  very  dignified 
and  solemn  manner.  .1  wish  to  accuse  my  brother,  Henry 
Howard;  but  you  must  exercise  forbearance,  if  my  words 
sound  less  solemn  and  elevated.  They  have  told  you,  sire, 
that  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  is  a  traitor  and  a  criminal  who 
denominates  the  Pope  of  Rome,  and  not  you,  my  exalted 
king,  the  head  of  the  Church.  Now,  the  Earl  of  Surrey  is 
neither  a  traitor  nor  a  papist;  and  he  has  neither  devised 
criminal  plots  against  the  throne  of  England,  nor  has  he 
denied  the  supremacy  of  the  king.  No,  sire,  the  Earl  of 
Surrey  is  no  traitor  and  no  papist!  " 

The  duchess  paused,  and  looked  with  a  malicious  and 
droll  smile  into  the  astonished  faces  of  those  present. 

A  dark  frown  gathered  on  the  king's  brow,  and  his  eyes, 
which  just  before  had  looked  so  cheerful,  were  now  fixed 
with  an  angry  expression  on  the  young  duchess. 

"  Why,  then,  my  lady,  have  you  made  your  appearance 
here?  "  asked  he.  "  Why  have  you  come  here,  if  you  have 
nothing  further  to  say  than  what  I  already  know — that  the 
Earl  of  Surrey  is  a  very  loyal  subject,  and  a  man  without 
any  ambition,  who  neither  courts  the  favor  of  my  people 
nor  thinks  of  laying  his  traitorous  hands  on  my  crown?  " 

The  young  duchess  shook  her  head  with  a  smile.  "  I 
know  not  whether  he  does  all  that,"  said  she.  "  I  have  in- 
deed heard  that  he  said,  with  bitter  scorn,  that  you,  nix- 
king,  wanted  to  be  the  protector  of  religion,  yet  you  your- 
self were  entirely  without  religion  and  without  belief. 
Also,  he  of  late  broke  out  into  bitter  curses  against  you,  be- 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  309 

cause  you  had  robbed  him  of  his  field-marshal's  staff,  and 
given  it  to  Earl  Hertford,  that  noble  Seymour.  Also,  he 
meant  to  see  whether  the  throne  of  England  were  so  firm 
and  steady  that  it  had  no  need  of  his  hand  and  his  arm  to 
prop  it.  All  that  I  have  of  course  heard  from  him;  but 
you  are  right,  sire,  it  is  unimportant — it  is  not  worth  men- 
tioning, and  therefore  I  do  not  even  make  it  as  an  accusa- 
tion against  him." 

"Ah,  you  are  always  a  mad  little  witch,  Rosabella!" 
cried  the  king,  who  had  regained  his  cheerfulness.  "  You 
say  you  will  not  accuse  him,  and  yet  you  make  his  head  a 
plaything  that  you  poise  upon  your  crimson  lips.  But 
take  care,  my  little  duchess — take  care,  that  this  head  does 
not  fall  from  your  lips  with  your  laughing,  and  roll  down 
to  the  ground;  for  I  will  not  stop  it — this  head  of  the  Earl 
of  Surrey,  of  whom  you  say  that  he  is  no  traitor." 

"  But  is  it  not  monotonous  and  tiresome,  if  we  accuse 
the  father  and  son  of  the  same  crime  ?  "  asked  the  duchess, 
laughing.  "  Let  us  have  a  little  variation.  Let  the  duke 
be  a  traitor;  the  son,  my  king,  is  by  far  a  worse  criminal!  " 

"  Is  there,  then,  a  still  worse  and  more  execrable  crime 
than  to  be  a  traitor  to  his  king  and  master,  and  to  speak 
of  the  anointed  of  the  Lord  without  reverence  and  love?  " 

"  Yes,  your  majesty,  there  is  a  still  worse  crime;  and  of 
that  I  accuse  the  Earl  of  Surrey.  He  is  an  adulterer! " 

"An  adulterer! "  repeated  the  king,  with  an  expres- 
sion of  abhorrence.  "  Yes,  my  lady,  you  are  right;  that  is 
a  more  execrable  and  unnatural  crime,  and  we  shall  judge 
it  strictly.  For  it  shall  not  be  said  that  modesty  and  vir- 
tue found  no  protector  in  the  king  of  this  land,  and  that 
he  will  not  as  a  judge  punish  and  crush  all  those  who  dare 
sin  against  decency  and  morals.  Oh,  the  Earl  of  Surrey 
is  an  adulterer,  is  he  ?  " 

"  That  is  to  say,  sire,  he  dares  with  his  sinful  love  to 
pursue  a  virtuous  and  chaste  wife.  He  dares  to  raise  his 
wicked  looks  to  a  woman  who  stands  as  high  above  him  as 
the  sun  above  mortals,  and  who,  at  least  by  the  greatness 


310  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS   COURT. 

and  high  position  of  her  husband,  should  be  secure  from 
all  impure  desires  and  lustful  wishes." 

"  Ah,"  cried  the  king,  indignantly,  "  I  see  already 
whither  that  tends.  It  is  always  the  same  accusation; 
and  now  I  say,  as  you  did  just  now,  let  us  have  a  little 
variation!  The  accusation  I  have  already  often  heard; 
but  the  proofs  are  always  wanting." 

"  Sire,  this  time,  it  may  be,  we  can  give  the  proofs," 
said  the  duchess,  earnestly.  "  Would  you  know,  my  noble 
king,  who  the  Geraldine  is  to  whom  Henry  Howard  ad- 
dresses his  love-songs?  Shall  I  tell  you  the  real  name  of 
this  woman  to  whom,  in  the  presence  of  your  sacred  person 
and  of  your  whole  court,  he  uttered  his  passionate  protes- 
tations of  love  and  his  oath  of  eternal  faithfulness?  Well, 
now,  this  Geraldine — so  adored,  so  deified — is  the  queen! " 

"That  is  not  true!"  cried  the  king,  crimson  with 
anger;  and  he  clenched  his  hands  so  firmly  about  the  arms 
of  his  chair  that  it  cracked.  "  That  is  not  true,  my  lady!  " 

"It  is  true!"  said  the  duchess,  haughtily  and  saucily. 
"  It  is  true,  sire,  for  the  Earl  of  Surrey  has  confessed  to  me 
myself  that  it  is  the  queen  whom  he  loves,  and  that  Geral- 
dine is  only  a  melodious  appellation  for  Catharine." 

"  He  has  confessed  it  to  you  yourself?  "  inquired  the 
king,  with  gasping  breath.  "  Ah,  he  dares  love  his  king's 
wife?  Woe  to  him,  woe!  " 

He  raised  his  clenched  fist  threateningly  to  heaven,  and 
his  eyes  darted  lightning.  "But  how!"  said  he,  after  a 
pause — "  has  he  not  recently  read  before  us  a  poem  to  his 
Geraldine,  in  which  he  thanks  her  for  her  love,  and  ac- 
knowledges himself  eternally  her  debtor  for  the  kiss  she 
gave  him  ?  " 

"He  has  read  before  your  majesty  such  a  poem  to 
Geraldine." 

The  king  uttered  a  low  cry,  and  raised  himself  in  his 
seat.  "  Proofs,"  said  he,  in  a  hoarse,  hollow  voice — 
"  proofs — or,  I  tell  you,  your  own  head  shall  atone  for  this 
accusation! " 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  3H 

"  This  proof,  your  majesty,  /  will  give  you!  "  said  Earl 
Douglas,  solemnly.  "  It  pleases  your  majesty,  in  the  ful- 
ness of  your  gentleness  and  mercy,  to  want  to  doubt  the 
accusation  of  the  noble  duchess.  Well,  now,  I  will  furnish 
you  infallible  proof  that  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey, 
really  loves  the  queen,  and  that  he  really  dares  to  extol 
and  adore  the  king's  wife  as  his  Geraldine.  You  shall 
with  your  own  ears,  sire,  hear  how  Earl  Surrey  swears  his 
love  to  the  queen." 

The  scream  which  the  king  now  uttered  was  so  fright- 
ful, and  gave  evidence  of  so  much  inward  agony  and  rage, 
that  it  struck  the  earl  dumb,  and  made  the  cheeks  of  the 
ladies  turn  pale. 

"Douglas,  Douglas,  beware  how  you  rouse  the  lion!" 
gasped  the  king.  "  The  lion  might  rend  you  yourself  in 
pieces! " 

"  This  very  night  I  will  give  you  the  proof  that  you  de- 
mand, sire.  This  very  night  you  shall  hear  how  Earl  Sur- 
rey, sitting  at  the  feet  of  his  Geraldine,  swears  to  her  his 
'love." 

"  It  is  well! "  said  the  king.  "  This  night,  then!  Woe 
to  you,  Douglas,  if  you  cannot  redeem  your  word!  " 

"  I  will  do  so,  your  majesty.  For  this,  it  is  only  neces- 
sary that  you  will  be  graciously  pleased  to  swear  to  me  that 
you  will  not,  by  a  sigh  or  a  breath,  betray  yourself.  The 
earl  is  suspicious;  and  the  fear  of  an  evil  conscience  has 
sharpened  his  ear.  He  would  recognize  you  by  your  sigh, 
and  his  lips  would  not  speak  those  words  and  avowals  which 
you  desire  to  hear." 

"  I  swear  to  you  that  I  will  not  by  any  sigh  or  breath 
betray  my  presence !  "  said  the  king,  solemnly.  "  I  swear 
this  to  you  by  the  holy  mother  of  God!  But  now  let  that 
suffice.  Air — air — I  suffocate!  Everything  swims  before 
my  eyes.  Open  the  window,  that  a  little  air  may  flow  in! 
Ah!  that  is  good!  This  air  at  least  is  pure,  and  not  infect- 
ed with  sin  and  slander!  " 

And  the  king  had  Earl  Douglas  roll  him  to  the  opened 


312  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COUUT 

window,  and  inspired  in  long  draughts  that  pure  fresh  air. 
Then  he  turned  to  the  ladies  with  an  agreeable  smile. 

"  My  ladies,"  said  he,  "  I  thank  you!  You  have  to-day 
shown  yourselves  my  true  and  devoted  friends!  I  shall 
ever  remember  it,  and  I  beg  of  you,  if  at  any  time  you 
need  a  friend  and  protector,  to  apply  to  us  with  all  confi- 
dence. We  shall  never  forget  what  great  service  you  have 
to-day  rendered  us." 

He  nodded  to  them  in  a  friendly  manner,  whilst,  with 
a  majestic  wave  of  the  hand,  he  dismissed  them,  and  con- 
cluded the  audience. 

"  And  now,  Douglas,"  exclaimed  the  king,  vehemently, 
as  soon  as  the  ladies  had  retired — "  now  I  have  had  enough 
of  this  dreadful  torture!  Oh,  you  say  I  am  to  punish  the 
traitors — these  Surreys — and  you  inflict  on  me  the  most 
frightful  pains  of  the  rack! " 

"  Sire,  there  was  no  other  means  of  delivering  up  this 
Surrey  to  you.  You  were  wishing  that  he  were  a  criminal; 
and  I  shall  prove  to  you  that  he  is  so." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  then  be  able  at  least  to  tread  his  hated 
head  under  my  feet "  said  the  king,  grinding  his  teeth. 
"  I  shall  no  more  tremble  before  this  malicious  enemy,  who 
goes  about  among  my  people  with  his  hypocritical  tongue, 
while  I,  tortured  with  pain,  sit  in  the  dungeon  of  my  sick- 
room. Yes,  yes,  I  thank  you,  Douglas,  that  you  will  hand 
him  over  to  my  arm  of  vengeance;  and  my  soul  is  full  of 
joy  and  serenity  at  it.  Ah,  why  were  you  obliged  to  cloud 
this  fair,  this  sublime  hour?  Why  was  it  necessary  to 
weave  the  queen  into  this  gloomy  web  of  guilt  and  crime? 
Her  cheerful  smile  and  her  radiant  looks  have  ever  been 
an  enjoyment  so  dear  to  my  eyes." 

"  Sire,  I  do  not  by  any  means  say  that  the  queen  is 
guilty.  Only  thore  was  no  other  means  to  prove  to  you 
Earl  Surrey's  guilt  than  that  you  should  hear  for  yourself 
his  confession  of  love  to  the  queen." 

"  And  I  will  hear  it! "  cried  the  king,  who  had  now  al- 
ready overcome  the  sentimental  emotion  of  his  heart. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   SIS    COURT.  313 

"  Yes,  I  will  have  full  conviction  of  Surrey's  guilt;  and 
woe  to  the  queen,  should  I  find  her  also  guilty!  This 
night,  then,  earl!  But  till  then,  silence  and  secrecy!  We 
will  have  father  and  son  seized  and  imprisoned  at  the  same 
hour;  for  otherwise  the  imprisonment  of  the  one  might 
easily  serve  as  a  warning  to  the  other,  and  he  might  escape 
my  just  wrath.  Ah,  they  are  so  sly— these  Howards — 
and  their  hearts  are,  so  full  of  cunning  and  malice!  But 
now  they  shall  escape  me  no  more;  now  they  are  ours! 
How  it  does  me  good  to  think  that!  And  how  briskly  and 
lightly  my  heart  leaps!  It  is  as  though  a  stream  of  new 
life  were  rushing  through  my  veins,  and  a  new  power  were 
infused  into  my  blood.  Oh,  it  was  these  Howards  that 
made  me  sick.  I  shall  be  well  again  when  I  know  that 
they  are  in  the  Tower.  Yes,  yes,  my  heart  leaps  with  joy, 
and  this  is  to  be  a  happy  and  blessed  day.  Call  the  queen 
hither  to  me,  that  I  may  once  more  enjoy  her  rosy  face  be- 
fore I  make  it  turn  pale  with  terror.  Yes,  let  the  queen 
come,  and  let  her  adorn  herself;  I  want  to  see  her  once 
more  in  the  full  splendor  of  her  youth  and  her  royalty, 
before  her  star  goes  out  in  darkness.  I  will  once  more  de- 
light myself  with  her  before  I  make  her  weep.  Ah,  know 
you,  Douglas,  that  there  is  no  enjoyment  keener,  more 
devilish,  and  more  heavenly,  than  to  see  such  a  person  who 
smiles  and  suspects  nothing,  while  she  is  already  con- 
demned; who  still  adorns  her  head  with  roses,  while  the 
executioner  is  already  sharpening  the  axe  that  is  to  lay 
that  head  low;  who  still  has  hopes  of  the  future,  and  of  joy 
and  happiness,  while  her  hour  of  life  has  already  run  out; 
while  I  have  already  bidden  her  stop  and  descend  into  the 
grave!  So,  call  the  queen  to  me;  and  tell  her  that  we  are 
in  a  merry  mood,  and  want  to  jest  and  laugh  with  her! 
Call  all  the  ladies  and  lords  of  our  court;  and  have  the 
royal  saloons  opened;  and  let  them  be  radiant  with  the 
brilliancy  of  the  lights;  and  let  us  have  music — loud, 
crashing  music — for  we  want  at  least  to  make  this  a  merry 
day  for  us  since  it  seems  as  though  we  should  have  a  sad 
21 


3U  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

and  unhappy  night.  Yes,  yes,  a  merry  day  we  will  have; 
and  after  that,  let  come  what  come  may!  The  saloons 
shall  resound  with  laughter  and  joyfulness;  and  naught 
but  rejoicing  and  fun  shall  be  heard  in  the  great  royal 
saloons.  And  invite  also  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  my  noble 
cousin,  who  shares  with  me  my  royal  coat-of-arms.  Yes, 
invite  him,  that  I  may  enjoy  once  more  his  haughty  and 
imposing  beauty  and  grandeur  before  this  august  sun  is 
extinguished  and  leaves  us  again  in  night  and  darkness. 
Then  invite  also  Wriothesley,  the  high  chancellor,  and  let 
him  bring  with  him  a  few  gallant  and  brave  soldiers  of  our 
body-guard.  They  are  to  be  the  noble  duke's  suite,  when 
he  wishes  to  leave  our  feast  and  go  homeward — homeward 
— if  not  to  his  palace,  yet  to  the  Tower,  and  to  the  grave. 
Go,  go,  Douglas,  and  attend  to  all  this  for  me!  And  send 
me  here  directly  my  merry  fool,  John  Heywood.  He  must 
pass  away  the  time  for  me  till  the  feast  begins.  He  must 
make  me  laugh  and  be  gay." 

"  I  will  go  and  fulfil  your  orders,  sire,"  said  Earl 
Douglas.  "  I  will  order  the  feast,  and  impart  your  com- 
mands to  the  queen  and  your  court.  And  first  of  all,  I 
will  send  John  Heywood  to  you.  But  pardon  me,  your 
majesty,  if  I  venture  to  remind  you  that  you  have  given 
me  your  royal  word  not  to  betray  our  secret  by  a  single  syl- 
lable, or  even  by  a  sigh." 

"  I  gave  my  word,  and  I  will  keep  it! "  said  the  king. 
'*'  Go  now,  Earl  Douglas,  and  do  what  I  have  bidden  you! " 

Wholly  exhausted  by  this  paroxysm  of  cruel  delight, 
the  king  sank  back  in  his  seat,  and  moaning  and  groaning 
he  rubbed  his  leg,  the  piercing  pains  of  which  he  had  for 
a  moment  forgotten,  but  which  now  reminded  him  of  their 
presence  with  so  much  the  more  cruel  fury. 

"Ah,  ah!"  moaned  the  king.  "He  boasts  of  being 
able  to  sleep  when  he  pleases.  Well,  this  time  we  will 
be  the  one  to  lull  this  haughty  earl  to  sleep.  But  it  will 
be  a  sleep  out  of  which  he  is  never  to  awake  again! " 

While  the  king  thus  wailed  and  suffered,  Earl  Doug- 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  315 

las  hastened  with  quick,  firm  step  through  the  suite  of 
royal  apartments.  A  proud,  triumphant  smile  played 
about  his  lips,  and  a  joyful  expression  of  victory  flashed 
from  his  eyes. 

"Triumph!  triumph!  we  shall  conquer!"  said  he,  as 
he  now  entered  his  daughter's  chamber  and  extended  hi?; 
hand  to  Lady  Jane.  "  Jane,  we  have  at  last  reached  the 
goal,  and  you  will  soon  be  King  Henry's  seventh  wife!  " 

A  rosy  shimmer  m'tted  for  a  moment  over  Lady  Jane's 
pale,  colorless  cheeks,  and  a  smile  played  about  her  lips — a 
smile,  however,  which  was  more  sad  than  loud  sobs  could 
have  been." 

"  Ah,"  said  she  in  a  low  tone,  "  I  fear  only  that  my 
poor  head  will  be  too  weak  to  wear  a  royal  crown." 

"  Courage,  courage,  Jane,  lift  up  your  head,  and  be 
again  my  strong,  proud  daughter! " 

"  But,  I  suffer  so  much,  my  father,"  sighed  she.  "  It 
is  hell  that  burns  -within  me!  " 

"  But  soon,  Jane,  soon  you  shall  feel  again  the  bliss  of 
heaven!  I  had  forbidden  you  to  grant  Henry  Howard  a 
meeting,  because  it  might  bring  us  danger.  Well,  then, 
now  your  tender  heart  shall  be  satisfied.  To-night  you 
shall  embrace  your  lover  again!  " 

"  Oh,"  murmured  she,  "  he  will  again  call  me  his  Geral- 
dine,  and  it  will  not  be  I,  but  the  queen,  that  he  kisses  in 
my  arms ! " 

"  Yes,  to-day,  it  will  still  be  so,  Jane;  but  I  swear  to 
you  that  to-day  is  the  last  time  that  you  are  obliged  to  re- 
ceive him  thus." 

"  The  last  time  that  I  see  him?  "  asked  Jane,  with  an 
expression  of  alarm. 

"  No,  Jane,  only  the  last  time  that  Henry  Howard 
loves  in  you  the  queen,  and  not  you  yourself." 

"  Oh,  he  will  never  love  me!  "  murmured  she,  sadly. 

"  He  will  love  you,  for  you  it  will  be  that  will  save  his 
life.  Hasten,  then,  Jane,  haste!  Write  him  quickly  one 
of  those  tender  notes  that  you  indite  with  so  masterly  a 


316  HENKY    VIIL   AND   HIS    COURT. 

hand.  Invite  him  to  a  meeting  to-night  at  the  usual  time 
and  place." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  at  last  have  him  again!  "  whispered  Lady 
Jane;  and  she  stepped  to  the  writing-table  and  with  trem- 
bling hand  began  to  write. 

But  suddenly  she  stopped,  and  looked  at  her  father 
sharply  and  suspiciously. 

"  You  swear  to  me,  my  father,  that  no  danger  threatens 
him  if  he  comes?  " 

"  I  swear  to  you,  Jane,  that  you  shall  be  the  one  to  save 
his  life!  I  swear  to  you,  Jane,  that  you  shall  take  ven- 
geance on  the  queen — vengeance  for  all  the  agony,  the  hu- 
miliation and  despair  that  you  have  suffered  by  her.  To- 
day she  is  yet  Queen  of  England!  To-morrow  she  will  be 
nothing  more  than  a  criminal,  who  sighs  in  the  confine- 
ment of  the  Tower  for  the  hour  of  her  execution.  And 
you  will  be  Henry's  seventh  queen.  Write,  then,  my 
daughter,  write!  And  may  love  dictate  to  you  the  proper 
words! " 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

THE   FEAST   OF   DEATH. 

FOR  a  long  time  the  king  had  not  appeared  in  such 
good  spirits  as  on  this  festive  evening.  For  a  long  time  he 
had  not  been  so  completely  the  tender  husband,  the  good- 
natured  companion,  the  cheerful  bon-vivant. 

The  pains  of  his  leg  seemed  to  have  disappeared,  and 
even  the  weight  of  his  body  seemed  to  be  less  burdensome 
than  usual,  for  more  than  once  he  rose  from  his  chair,  and 
walked  a  few  steps  through  the  brilliantly  lighted  saloon, 
in  which  the  ladies  and  lords  of  his  court,  in  festive  attire, 
were  moving  gently  to  and  fro;  in  which  music  and  laugh- 
ter resounded. 


HENRY   VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  317 

How  tender  he  showed  himself  toward  the  queen  to- 
day; with  what  extraordinary  kindness  he  met  the  Duke 
of  Norfolk;  with  what  smiling  attention  he  listened  to 
the  Earl  of  Surrey,  as  he,  at  the  king's  desire,  recited  some 
new  sonnets  to  Geraldine! 

This  marked  preference  for  the  noble  Howards  enrap- 
tured the  Roman  Catholic  party  at  court,  and  filled  it  with 
new  hopes  and  new  confidence. 

But  one  there  was  who  did  not  allow  himself  to  be  de- 
ceived by  this  mask  which  King  Henry  had  to-day  put  on 
over  his  wrathful  face. 

John  Heywood  had  faith  neither  in  the  king's  cheer- 
fulness nor  in  his  tenderness.  He  knew  the  king;  he  was 
aware  that  those  to  whom  he  was  most  friendly  often  had 
the  most  to  fear  from  him.  Therefore,  he  watched  him; 
and  he  saw,  beneath  this  mask  of  friendliness,  the  king's 
real  angry  countenance  sometimes  flash  out  in  a  quick, 
hasty  look. 

The  resounding  music  and  the  mad  rejoicing  no  more 
deceived  John  Heywood.  He  beheld  Death  standing  be- 
hind this  dazzling  life;  he  smelt  the  reek  of  corruption 
concealed  beneath  the  perfume  of  these  brilliant  flowers. 

John  Heywood  no  longer  laughed  and  no  longer  chat- 
ted. He  watched. 

For  the  first  time  in  a  long  while  the  king  did  not  need 
to-day  the  exciting  jest  and  the  stinging  wit  of  his  fool  in 
order  to  be  cheerful  and  in  good  humor. 

So  the  fool  had  time  and  leisure  to  be  a  reasonable  and 
observant  man;  and  he  improved  the  time. 

He  saw  the  looks  of  mutual  understanding  and  secure 
triumph  that  Earl  Douglas  exchanged  with  Gardiner,  and 
it  made  him  mistrustful  to  notice  that  these  favorites  of 
the  king,  at  other  times  so  jealous,  did  not  seem  to  be  at 
all  disturbed  by  the  extraordinary  marks  of  favor  which 
the  Howards  were  enjoying  this  evening. 

Once  he  heard  how  Gardiner  asked  Wriothesley,  as  he 
passed  by,  "  And  the  soldiers  of  the  Tower?  "  and  how  he 


318  HEXRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

replied  just  as  laconically,  "  They  stand  near  the  coach, 
and  wait." 

It  was,  therefore,  perfectly  clear  that  somebody  would 
be  committed  to  prison  this  very  day.  There  was,  there- 
fore, among  the  laughing,  richly-attired,  and  jesting 
guests  of  this  court,  one  who  this  very  night,  when  he 
left  these  halls  radiant  with  splendor  and  pleasure,  was  to 
behold  the  dark  and  gloomy  chambers  of  the  Tower. 

The  only  question  was,  who  that  one  was  for  whom  the 
brilliant  comedy  of  this  evening  was  to  be  changed  to  so 
sad  a  drama. 

John  Heywood  felt  his  heart  oppressed  with  an  unac- 
countable apprehension,  and  the  king's  extraordinary  ten- 
derness toward  the  queen  terrified  him. 

As  now  he  smiled  on  Catharine,  as  he  now  stroked  her 
cheeks,  so  had  the  king  smiled  on  Anne  Boleyn  in  the 
same  hour  that  he  ordered  her  arrest;  so  had  he  stroked 
Buckingham's  cheek  on  the  same  day  that  he  signed  his 
death-warrant. 

The  fool  was  alarmed  at  this  brilliant  feast,  resounding 
music,  and  the  mad  merriment  of  the  king.  He  was  hor- 
rified at  the  laughing  faces  and  frivolous  jests,  which  came 
streaming  from  all  those  mirthful  lips. 

0  Heaven!  they  laughed,  and  death  was  in  the  midst 
of  them;  they  laughed,  and  the  gates  of  the  Tower  were 
already  opened  to  admit  one  of  those  merry  guests  of  the 
king  into  that  house  which  no  one  in  those  days  of  Henry 
the  Eighth  left  again,  save  to  go  to  the  stake  or  to  ascend 
the  scaffold! 

Who  was  the  condemned  ?  For  whom  were  the  soldiers 
below  at  the  carriage  waiting?  John  Heywood  in  vain 
racked  his  brain  with  this  question. 

Nowhere  could  he  spy  a  trace  that  might  lead  him  on 
the  right  track;  nowhere  a  clew  that  might  conduct  him 
through  this  labyrinth  of  horrors. 

"  When  you  are  afraid  of  the  devil,  you  do  well  to  put 
yourself  under  his  immediate  protection,"  muttered  John 


HEiNRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  319 

Heywood;  and  sad  and  despondent  at  heart,  he  crept  be- 
hind the  king's  throne  and  crouched  down  by  it  on  the 
ground. 

John  Heywood  had  such  a  little,  diminutive  form,  and 
the  king's  throne  was  so  large  and  broad,  that  it  altogether 
concealed  the  little  crouching  fool. 

No  one  had  noticed  that  John  Heywood  was  concealed 
there  behind  the  king.  Nobody  saw  his  large,  keen  eyes 
peeping  out  from  behind  the  throne  and  surveying  and 
watching  the  whole  hall. 

John  Heywood  could  see  everything  and  hear  every- 
thing going  on  in  the  vicinity  of  the  king.  He  could  ob- 
serve every  one  who  approached  the  queen. 

He  saw  Lady  Jane  likewise,  who  was  standing  by  the 
queen's  seat.  He  saw  how  Earl  Douglas  drew  near  his 
daughter,  and  how  she  turned  deadly  pale  as  he  stepped 
up  to  her. 

John  Heywood  held  his  breath  and  listened. 

Earl  Douglas  stood  near  his  daughter,  and  nodded  to 
her  with  a  peculiar  smile.  "  Go,  now,  Jane,  go  and  change 
your  dress.  It  is  time.  Only  see  how  impatiently  and 
longingly  Henry  Howard  is  already  looking  this  way,  and 
with  what  languishing  and  enamored  glances  he  seems  to 
give  a  hint  to  the  queen.  Go  then,  Jane,  and  think  of 
your  promise." 

"  And  will  you,  my  father,  also  think  of  your  prom- 
ise?" inquired  Lady  Jane,  with  trembling  lips.  "Will 
no  danger  threaten  him?  " 

"  I  will,  Jane.  But  now  make  haste,  my  daughter,  and 
be  prudent  and  adroit." 

Lady  Jane  bowed,  and  murmured  a  few  unintelligible 
words.  Then  she  approached  the  queen,  and  begged  per- 
mission to  retire  from  the  feast,  because  a  severe  indisposi- 
tion had  suddenly  overtaken  her. 

Lady  Jane's  countenance  was  so  pale  and  deathlike, 
that  the  queen  might  well  believe  in  the  indisposition  of 
her  first  maid  of  honor,  and  she  allowed  her  to  retire. 


320  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

Lady  Jane  left  the  hall.  The  queen  continued  the 
conversation  with  Lord  Hertford,  who  was  standing  by  her. 

It  was  a  very  lively  and  warm  conversation,  and  the 
queen  therefore  did  not  heed  what  was  passing  around  her; 
and  she  heard  nothing  of  the  conversation  between  the 
king  and  Earl  Douglas. 

John  Heywood,  still  crouching  behind  the  king's 
throne,  observed  everything  and  heard  every  word  of  this 
softly  whispered  conversation. 

"  Sire,"  said  Earl  Douglas,  "  it  is  late  and  the  hour  of 
midnight  is  drawing  nigh.  Will  your  majesty  be  pleased 
to  conclude  the  feast?  For  you  well  know  that  at  mid- 
night we  must  be  over  there  in  the  green  summer-house, 
and  it  is  a  long  way  there." 

"Yes,  yes,  at  midnight!"  muttered  the  king.  "At 
midnight  the  carnival  is  at  an  end;  and  we  shall  tear  off 
our  mask,  and  show  our  wrathful  countenance  to  the  crim- 
inals! At  midnight  we  must  be  over  in  the  green  sum- 
mer-house. Yes,  Douglas,  we  must  make  haste;  for  it 
would  be  cruel  to  let  the  tender  Surrey  wait  still  longer. 
So  we  will  give  his  Geraldine  liberty  to  leave  the  feast; 
and  we  ourselves  must  begin  our  journey.  Ah,  Douglas,  it 
is  a  hard  path  that  we  have  to  tread,  and  the  furies  and 
gods  of  vengeance  bear  our  torches.  To  work,  then — to 
work! " 

The  king  arose  from  his  seat,  and  stepped  to  the  queen, 
to  whom  he  presented  his  hand  with  a  tender  smile. 

"My  lady,  it  is  late,"  said  he;  "and  we,  who  are  king 
of  so  many  subjects — we  are,  nevertheless,  in  turn,  the 
subject  of  a  king.  This  is  the  physician,  and  we  must 
obey  him.  He  has  ordered  me  to  seek  my  couch  before 
midnight,  and,  as  a  loyal  subject  must  do,  I  obey.  We 
wish  you,  therefore,  a  good-night,  Kate;  and  may  your 
beautiful  eyes  on  the  morrow  also  shine  as  starlike  as  they 
do  to-night." 

"  They  will  shine  to-morrow  as  to-night,  if  my  lord  and 
husband  is  still  as  gracious  to  me  to-morrow  as  to-day," 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  321 

said  Catharine,  with  perfect  artlessness  and  without  em- 
barrassment, as  she  gave  her  hand  to  the  king. 

Henry  cast  on  her  a  suspicious,  searching  look,  and  a 
peculiar,  malicious  expression  was  manifested  in  his  face. 

"  Do  you  believe  then,  Kate,  that  we  can  ever  be  un- 
gracious to  you?  "  asked  he. 

"  As  to  that,  I  think,"  said  she,  with  a  smile,  "  that 
even  the  sun  does  not  always  shine;  and  that  a  gloomy 
night  always  succeeds  his  splendor." 

The  king  did  not  reply.  He  looked  her  steadily  in 
the  face,  and  his  features  suddenly  assumed  a  gentler  ex- 
pression. 

Perhaps  he  had  compassion  on  his  young  wife.  Per- 
haps he  felt  pity  for  her  youth  and  her  enchanting  smile, 
which  had  so  often  revived  and  refreshed  his  heart. 

Earl  Douglas  at  least  feared  so. 

"  Sire,"  said  he,  "  it  is  late.  The  hour  of  midnight  is 
drawing  nigh." 

"  Then  let  us  go/'  exclaimed  the  king,  with  a  sigh. 
"Yes  once  again,  good-night,  Kate!  Nay,  do  not  accom- 
pany me!  I  will  leave  the  hall  quite  unobserved;  and  I 
shall  be  pleased,  if  my  guests  will  still  prolong  the  fair 
feast  till  morning.  All  of  you  remain  here!  No  one  but 
Douglas  accompanies  me." 

"  And  your  brother,  the  fool! "  said  John  Heywood, 
who  long  before  had  come  out  of  his  hiding-place  and  was 
now  standing  by  the  king.  "Yes,  come,  brother  Henry; 
let  us  quit  this  feast.  It  is  not  becoming  for  wise  men  of 
our  sort  to  grant  our  presence  still  longer  to  the  feast  of 
fools.  Come  to  your  couch,  king,  and  I  will  lull  your  ear 
to  sleep  with  the  sayings  of  my  wisdom,  and  enliven  your 
soul  with  the  manna  of  my  learning." 

While  John  Heywood  thus  spoke,  it  did  not  escape  him 
that  the  features  of  the  earl  suddenly  clouded  and  a  dark 
frown  settled  on  his  brow. 

"  Spare  your  wisdom  for  to-day,  John,"  said  the  king; 
"  for  you  would  indeed  be  preaching  only  to  deaf  ears.  I 


322  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

am  tired,  and  I  require  not  your  erudition,  but  sleep. 
Good-night,  John." 

The  king  left  the  hall,  leaning  on  Earl  Douglas's  arm. 

"  Earl  Douglas  does  not  wish  me  to  accompany  the 
king,"  whispered  John  Heywood.  "  He  is  afraid  the  king 
might  blab  out  to  me  a  little  of  that  diabolical  work  which 
they  will  commence  at  midnight.  Well,  I  call  the  devil, 
as  well  as  the  king,  my  brother,  and  with  his  help  I  too 
will  be  in  the  green-room  at  midnight.  Ah,  the  queen  is 
retiring;  and  there  is  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  leaving  the 
hall.  I  have  a  slight  longing  to  see  whether  the  duke  goes 
hence  luckily  and  without  danger,  or  if  the  soldiers  who 
stand  near  the  coach,  as  Wriothesley  says,  will  perchance 
be  the  duke's  bodyguard  for  this  night." 

Slipping  out  of  the  hall  with  the  quickness  of  a  cat, 
John  Heywood  passed  the  duke  in  the  anteroom  and  hur- 
ried on  to  the  outer  gateway,  before  which  the  carriages 
were  drawn  up. 

John  Heywood  leaned  against  a  pillar  and  watched.  A 
few  minutes,  and  the  duke's  tall  and  proud  form  appeared 
in  the  entrance-hall;  and  the  footman,  hurrying  forward, 
called  his  carriage. 

The  carriage  rolled  up;  the  door  was  opened. 

Two  men  wrapped  in  black  mantles  sat  by  the  coach- 
man; two  others  stood  behind  as  footmen,  while  a  fifth  was 
by  the  open  door  of  the  carriage. 

The  duke  first  noticed  him  as  his  foot  had  already 
touched  the  step  of  the  carriage. 

"  This  is  not  my  equipage!  These  are  not  my  people!  " 
said  he;  and  he  tried  to  step  back.  But  the  pretended 
servant  forced  him  violently  into  the  carriage  and  shut  the 
door. 

"Forward!"  ordered  he.  The  carriage  rolled  on.  A 
moment  still,  John  Heywood  saw  the  duke's  pale  face  ap- 
pear at  the  open  carriage  window,  and  it  seemed  to  him 
its  though  he  were  stretching  out  his  arms,  call  ing  for  help 
— ihen  the  carriage  disappeared  in  the  night. 


HENKY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  ,      323 

"Poor  duke!"  murmured  John  Hey  wood.  "The 
gates  of  the  Tower  are  heavy,  and  your  arm  will  not  be 
strong  enough  to  open  them  again,  when  they  have  once 
closed  behind  you.  But  it  avails  nothing  to  think  more 
about  him  now.  The  queen  is  also  in  danger.  Away, 
then,  to  the  queen!  " 

With  fleet  foot  John  Heywood  hastened  back  into  the 
castle.  Through  passages  and  corridors  he  slipped  hur- 
riedly along. 

Now  he  stood  in  the  corridor  which  led  to  the  apart- 
ments of  the  queen. 

"  I  will  constitute  her  guard  to-night,"  muttered  John 
Heywood,  as  he  hid  himself  in  one  of  the  niches  in  the  cor- 
ridor. "  The  fool  by  his  prayers  will  keep  far  from  the 
door  of  his  saint  the  tricks  of  the  devil,  and  protect  her 
from  the  snares  which  the  pious  Bishop  Gardiner  and  the 
crafty  courtier  Douglas  want  to  lay  for  her  feet.  My 
queen  shall  not  fall  and  be  ruined.  The  fool  yet  lives  to 
protect  her." 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

THE   QUEEN 

FROM  the  niche  in  Avhich  John  Heywood  had  hid  him- 
self he  could  survey  the  entire  corridor  and  all  the  doors 
opening  into  it — could  see  everything  and  hear  everything 
without  being  himself  seen,  for  the  projecting  pilaster 
completely  shaded  him. 

So  John  Heywood  stood  and  listened.  All  was  quiet 
in  the  corridor.  In  the  distance  was  now  and  then  heard 
the  deadened  sound  of  the  music;  and  the  confused  hum 
of  many  voices  from  the  festive  halls  forced  its  way  to 
the  listener's  ear. 

This  was  the  only  thing  that  John  Heywood  perceived. 
All  else  was  still. 


324  HENRY    Vni.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

But  this  stillness  did  not  last  long.  The  corridor  was 
lighted  up,  and  the  sound  of  rapidly  approaching  footsteps 
was  heard. 

It  was  the  gold-laced  lackeys,  who  bore  the  large  silver 
candelabra  to  light  the  queen,  who,  with  her  train  of 
ladies,  was  passing  through  the  corridor. 

She  looked  wondrously  beautiful.  The  glare  of  the 
candles  borne  before  her  illumined  her  countenance,  which 
beamed  with  cheerfulness.  As  she  passed  the  pillar  be- 
hind which  John  Heywood  was  standing,  she  was  talking 
in  unrestrained  gayety  with  her  second  maid  of  honor; 
and  a  clear  and  lively  laugh  rang  from  her  lips,  which  dis- 
closed both  rows  of  her  dazzling  white  teeth.  Her  eyes 
sparkled;  her  cheeks  were  flushed  with  a  rich  red;  bright 
as  stars  glittered  the  diamonds  in  the  diadem  that  encir- 
cled her  lofty  brow;  like  liquid  gold  shone  her  dress  of 
gold  brocade,  the  long  trail  of  which,  trimmed  with  black 
ermine,  was  borne  by  two  lovely  pages. 

Arrived  at  the  door  of  her  bed-chamber,  the  queen 
dismissed  her  pages  and  lackeys,  and  permitted  only  the 
maid  of  honor  to  cross  the  threshold  of  her  chamber  with 
her. 

In  harmless  gossip  the  pages  glided  down  the  corridor 
and  the  staircase.  Then  came  the  lackeys  who  bore  the 
candelabra.  They  also  left  the  corridor. 

Now  all  was  quiet  again.  Still  John  Heywood  stood 
and  listened,  firmly  resolved  to  speak  to  the  queen  yet  that 
night,  even  should  he  be  obliged  to  wake  her  from  sleep. 
Only  he  wanted  to  wait  till  the  maid  of  honor  also  had  left 
the  queen's  room. 

Now  the  door  opened,  and  the  maid  of  honor  came  out. 
She  crossed  tho  corridor  to  that  side  where  her  own  apart- 
ments were  situated.  John  Heywood  heard  her  open  the 
door  and  then  slide  the  bolt  on  the  inside. 

"Now  but  a  brief  time  longer,  and  I  will  go  to  the 
queen,"  muttered  John  Heywood. 

He  was  just  going  to  leave  his  lurking-place,  when  he 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  325 

perceived  a  noise  as  if  a  door  were  slowly  and  cautiously 
opened. 

John  Heywood  cowered  again  close  behind  the  pillar, 
and  held  his  breath  to  listen. 

A  bright  light  fell  over  the  corridor.  A  dress  came 
rustling  nearer  and  nearer. 

John  Heywood  gazed  astounded  and  amazed  at  the  fig- 
ure, which  just  brushed  past  without  seeing  him. 

That  figure  was  Lady  Jane  Douglas — Lady  Jane,  who, 
on  account  of  indisposition,  had  retired  from  the  feast  in 
order  to  betake  herself  to  rest.  Now,  when  all  rested, 
she  watched — when  all  laid  aside  their  festive  garments, 
she  had  adorned  herself  with  the  same.  Like  the  queen, 
she  wore  a  dress  of  gold  brocade,  trimmed  with  ermine, 
and,  like  her,  a  diadem  of  diamonds  adorned  Lady  Jane's 
brow. 

Now  she  stood  before  the  queen's  door  and  listened. 
Then  a  fierce  sneer  flitted  across  her  deathly  pale  face,  and 
her  dark  eyes  flashed  still  more. 

"  She  sleeps/'  muttered  she.  "  Only  sleep,  queen — 
sleep  till  we  shall  come  to  wake  you!  Sleep,  so  that  I  can 
wake  for  you." 

She  raised  her  arm  threateningly  toward  the  door,  and 
wildly  shook  her  head.  Her  long  black  ringlets  encircled 
and  danced  around  her  sullen  brow  like  the  snakes  of  the 
furies;  and  pale  and  colorless,  and  with  demon-like  beauty, 
she  resembled  altogether  the  goddess  of  vengeance,  in 
scornful  triumph  preparing  to  tread  her  victim  beneath 
her  feet. 

With  a  low  laugh  she  now  glided  adown  the  corridor, 
but  not  to  that  staircase  yonder,  but  farther  down  to  the 
end,  where  on  the  wall  hung  a  life-size  picture  of  Henry 
the  Sixth.  She  pressed  on  a  spring;  the  picture  flew  open, 
and  through  the  door  concealed  behind  it  Lady  Jane  left 
the  corridor.  v 

"  She  is  going  to  the  green-room  to  a  meeting  with 
Henry  Howard! "  whispered  John  Heywood,  who  now 


326  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

stepped  forth  from  behind  the  pillar.  "  Oh,  now  I  com- 
prehend it  all;  now  the  whole  of  this  devilish  plot  is  clear 
to  me;  Lady  Jane  is  Earl  Surrey's  lady-love,  and  they 
want  to  make  the  king  believe  that  it  is  the  queen. 
Doubtless  this  Surrey  is  with  them  in  the  conspiracy,  and 
perhaps  he  will  call  Jane  Douglas  by  the  name  of  the 
queen.  They  will  let  the  king  see  her  but  a  moment.  She 
wears  a  gold  brocade  dress  and  a  diamond  diadem  like  the 
queen;  and  thereby  they  hope  to  deceive  Henry.  She  has 
the  queen's  form  precisely;  and  everybody  knows  the  aston- 
ishing similarity  and  likeness  of  Lady  Jane's  voice  to  that 
of  the  queen.  Oh,  oh,  it  is  a  tolerably  cunning  plot!  But 
nevertheless  you  shall  not  succeed,  and  you  shall  not  yet 
gain  the  victory.  Patience,  only  patience!  We  likewise 
will  be  in  the  green-room,  and  face  to  face  with  this  royal 
counterfeit  we  will  place  the  genuine  queen!" 

With  hurried  step  John  Heywood  also  left  the  cor- 
ridor, which  was  now  lonely  and  still,  for  the  queen  had 
gone  to  rest. 

Yes,  the  queen  slept,  and  yet  over  yonder  in  the  green- 
room everything  was  prepared  for  her  reception. 

It  was  to  be  a  very  brilliant  and  extraordinary  recep- 
tion; for  the  king,  in  his  own  person,  had  betaken  himself 
to  that  wing  of  the  castle,  and  the  chief  master  of  cere- 
monies, Earl  Douglas,  had  accompanied  him. 

To  the  king,  this  excursion,  which  he  had  to  make  on 
foot,  had  been  very  troublesome;  and  this  inconvenience 
had  made  him  only  still  more  furious  and  excited,  and  the 
last  trace  of  compassion  for  his  queen  had  disappeared  from 
the  king's  breast,  for  on  Catharine's  account  he  had  been 
obliged  to  make  this  long  journey  to  the  green-room;  and 
with  a  grim  joy  Henry  thought  only  how  terrible  was  to 
be  his  punishment  for  Henry  Howard  and  also  for  Catha- 
rine. 

Now  that  Earl  Douglas  had  brought  him  hither,  the 
king  no  longer  had  any  doubts  at  all  of  the  queen's  guilt. 
It  was  no  longer  an  accusation — it  was  proof.  For  never 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  327 

in  the  world  would  Earl  Douglas  have  dared  to  bring  him, 
the  king,  hither,  if  he  were  not  certain  that  he  would  give 
him  here  infallible  proofs. 

The  king,  therefore,  no  longer  doubted;  at  last  Henry 
Howard  was  in  his  power,  and  he  could  no  more  escape 
him.  So  he  was  certain  of  being  able  to  bring  these  two 
hated  enemies  to  the  block,  and  of  feeling  his  sleep  no 
longed  disturbed  by  thoughts  of  his  two  powerful  rivals. 

The  Duke  of  Norfolk  had  already  passed  the  gates  of 
the  Tower,  and  his  son  must  soon  follow  him  thither. 

At  this  thought  the  king  felt  an  ecstasy  so  savage  and 
bloodthirsty,  that  he  wholly  forgot  that  the  same  sword 
that  was  to  strike  Henry  Howard's  head  was  drawn  on  his 
queen  also. 

They  were  now  standing  in  the  green-room,  and 
the  king  leaned  panting  and  moaning  on  Earl  Douglas's 
arm. 

The  large  wide  room,  with  its  antique  furniture  and 
its  faded  glory,  was  only  gloomily  and  scantily  lighted  in 
the  middle  by  the  two  wax  candles  of  the  candelabrum 
that  Earl  Douglas  had  brought  with  him;  while  further 
away  it  was  enveloped  in  deep  gloom,  and  seemed  to  the 
eye  through  this  gloom  to  stretch  out  to  an  interminable 
length. 

"  Through  the  door  over  there  comes  the  queen,"  said 
Douglas;  and  he  himself  shrank  at  the  loud  sound  of  his 
voice,  which  in  the  larger  desolate  room  became  of  awful 
fulness.  "  And  that,  there,  is  Henry  Howard's  entrance. 
Oh,  he  knows  that  path  very  thoroughly;  for  he  has  often 
enough  already  travelled  it  in  the  dark  night,  and  his  foot 
no  longer  stumbles  on  any  stone  of  offence! " 

"  But  he  will  perchance  stumble  on  the  headsman's 
block! "  muttered  the  king,  with  a  cruel  laugh. 

"  I  now  take  the  liberty  of  asking  one  question  more," 
said  Douglas;  and  the  king  did  not  suspect  how  stormily 
the  earl's  heart  beat  at  this  question.  "  Is  your  majesty 
satisfied  to  see  the  earl  and  the  aueen  make  their  appear- 


328  HJSNKY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

ance  at  this  meeting?  Or,  do  you  desire  to  listen  to  a 
little  of  the  earl's  tender  protestations?  " 

"  I  will  hear  not  a  little,  but  all! "  said  the  king. 
"  Ah,  let  us  allow  the  earl  yet  to  sing  his  swan-like  song 
before  he  plunges  into  the  sea  of  blood!  " 

"  Then,"  said  Earl  Douglas,  "  then  we  must  put  out 
this  light,  and  your  majesty  must  be  content  merely  to 
hear  the  guilty  ones,  and.  not  to  see  them  also.  We  will 
then  betake  ourselves  to  the  boudoir  here,  which  I  have 
opened  for  this  purpose,  and  in  which  is  an  easy-chair  for 
your  majesty.  We  will  place  this  chair  near  the  open 
door,  and  then  your  majesty  will  be  able  to  hear  every 
word  of  their  tender  whisperings." 

"  But  how  shall  we,  if  we  extinguish  this  our  only 
light,  at  last  attain  to  a  sight  of  this  dear  loving  pair,  and 
be  able  to  afford  them  the  dramatic  surprise  of  our  pres- 
ence?" 

"  Sire,  as  soon  as  the  Earl  of  Surrey  enters,  twenty 
men  of  the  king's  bodyguard  will  occupy  the  anteroom 
through  which  the  earl  must  pass;  and  it  needs  but  a  call 
from  you  to  have  them  enter  the  hall  with  their  torches. 
I  have  taken  care  also  that  before  the  private  back- 
gate  of  the  palace  two  coaches  stand  ready,  the  drivers 
of  which  know  very  well  the  street  that  leads  to  the 
Tower! " 

"Two  coaches?"  said  the  king,  laughing.  "Ah,  ah, 
Douglas,  how  cruel  we  are  to  separate  the  tender,  loving 
pair  on  this  journey  which  is  yet  to  be  their  last!  Well, 
perhaps  we  can  compensate  them  for  it,  and  allow  these 
turtledoves  to  make  the  last  trip — the  trip  to  the  stake — 
together.  No,  no,  we  will  not  separate  them  in  death. 
Together  they  may  lay  their  heads  on  the  block." 

The  king  laughed,  quite  delighted  with  his  jest,  while, 
leaning  on  the  earl's  arm,  he  crossed  to  the  little  boudoir 
on  the  other  side,  and  took  his  place  in  the  armchair  set 
near  the  door. 

"  Now  we  must  extinguish  the  light;  and  may  it  please 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS    COURT.  329 

your  majesty  to  await  in  silence  the  things  that  are  to 
come." 

The  earl  extinguished  the  light,  and  deep  darkness  and 
a  grave-like  stillness  now  followed. 

But  this  did  not  last  long.  Now  was  heard  quite  dis- 
tinctly the  sound  of  footsteps.  They  came  nearer  and 
nearer — now  a  door  was  heard  to  open  and  shut  again,  and 
it  was  as  though  some  one  were  creeping  softly  along  on 
his  toes  in  the  hall. 

"Henry  Howard!"  whispered  Douglas. 

The  king  could  scarcely  restrain  the  cry  of  savage, 
malicious  delight  that  forced  its  way  to  his  lips. 

The  hated  enemy  was  then  in  his  power;  he  was  con- 
victed of  the  crime;  he  was  inevitably  lost. 

"  Geraldine !  "  whispered  a  voice,  "  Geraldine !  " 

And  as  if  his  low  call  had  already  heen  sufficient  to 
draw  hither  the  loved  one,  the  secret  door  here  quite  close 
to  the  boudoir  opened.  The  rustling  of  a  dress  was  very 
distinctly  heard,  and  the  sound  of  footsteps. 

"Geraldine!"  repeated  Earl  Surrey. 

"  Here  I  am,  my  Henry! " 

With  an  exclamation  of  delight,  the  woman  rushed  for- 
ward toward  the  sound  of  the  loved  voice. 

"  The  queen! "  muttered  Henry;  and  in  spite  of  him- 
self he  felt  his  heart  seized  with  bitter  grief. 

He  saw  with  his  inward  eye  how  they  held  each  other 
in  their  embrace.  He  heard  their  kisses  and  the  low  whis- 
per of  their  tender  vows,  and  all  the  agonies  of  jeal- 
ousy and  wrath  filled  his  soul.  But  yet  the  king  pre- 
vailed upon  himself  to  be  silent  and  swallow  down 
his  rage.  He  wanted  to  hear  everything,  to  know  every- 
thing. 

He  clenched  his  hands  convulsively,  and  pressed  his 
lips  firmly  together  to  hold  in  his  panting  breath.  He 
wanted  to  hear. 

How  happy  they  both  were!  Henry  had  wholly  for- 
gotten that  he  had  come  to  reproach  her  for  her  long 
22 


330  HKXRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

silence;  she  did  not  think  about  this  being  the  last  time 
she  might  see  her  lover. 

They  were  with  each  other,  and  this  hour  was  theirs. 
What  did  the  whole  world  matter  to  them?  What  cared 
they  whether  or  not  mischief  and  ruin  threatened  them 
hereafter? 

They  sat  by  each  other  on  the  divan,  quite  near  the 
boudoir.  They  jested  and  laughed;  and  Henry  Howard 
kissed  away  the  tears  that  the  happiness  of  the  present 
caused  his  Geraldine  to  shed. 

He  swore  to  her  eternal  and  unchanging  love.  In 
blissful  silence  she  drank  in  the  music  of  his  words;  and 
then  she  reiterated,  with  jubilant  joy,  his  vows  of  love. 

The  king  could  scarcely  restrain  his  fury. 

The  heart  of  Earl  Douglas  leaped  with  satisfaction  and 
gratification.  "  A  lucky  thing  that  Jane  has  no  suspicion 
of  our  presence,"  thought  he — "  otherwise  she  would  have 
been  less  unrestrained  and  ardent,  and  the  king's  ear 
would  have  imbibed  less  poison." 

Lady  Jane  thought  not  at  all  of  her  father;  she  scarce- 
ly remembered  that  this  very  night  would  destroy  her 
hated  rival  the  queen. 

Henry  Howard  had  called  her  his  Geraldine  only. 
Jane  had  entirely  forgot  that  it  was  not  she  to  whom  her 
lover  had  given  this  name. 

But  he  himself  finally  reminded  her  of  it. 

"  Do  you  know,  Geraldine,"  said  Earl  Surrey — and  his 
voice,  which  had  been  hitherto  so  cheerful  and  sprightly, 
was  now  sad — "  do  you  know,  Geraldine,  that  I  have  had 
doubts  of  you?  Oh,  those  were  frightful,  horrible  hours; 
and  in  the  agony  of  my  heart  I  came  at  last  to  the  resolu- 
tion of  going  to  the  king  and  accusing  myself  of  this  love 
that  was  consuming  my  heart.  Oh,  fear  naught!  I  would 
not  have  accused  you.  I  would  have  even  denied  that  love 
"which  you  have  so  often  and  with  such  transporting  reality 
sworn  to  me.  I  would  have  done  it  in  order  to  see  whether 
my  Geraldine  could  at  last  gain  courage  and  strength  to 


HENKY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  331 

acknowledge  her  love  openly  and  frankly;  whether  her 
heart  had  the  power  to  burst  that  iron  band  which  the 
deceitful  rules  of  the  world  had  placed  around  it;  whether 
she  would  acknowledge  her  lover  when  he  was  willing  to 
die  for  her.  Yes,  Geraldine,  I  wanted  to  do  it,  that  I 
might  finally  know  which  feeling  is  stronger  in  you — love 
or  pride — and  whether  you  could  then  still  preserve  the 
mask  of  indifference,  when  death  was  hovering  over  your 
lover's  head.  Oh,  Geraldine,  I  should  deem  it  a  fairer  fate 
to  die  united  with  you,  than  to  be  obliged  to  still  longer 
endure  this  life  of  constraint  and  hateful  etiquette." 

"  No,  no,"  said  she,  trembling,  "  we  will  not  die.  My 
God,  life  is  indeed  so  beautiful  when  you  are  by  my  side! 
And  who  knows  whether  a  felicitous  and  blissful  future 
may  not  still  await  us?  " 

"  Oh,  should  we  die,  then  should  we  be  certain  of  this 
blissful  future,  my  Geraldine.  There,  above,  there  is  no 
more  separation — no  more  renunciation  for  us.  There 
above,  you  are  mine,  and  the  bloody  image  of  your  husband 
no  longer  stands  between  us." 

"  It  shall  no  longer  do  so,  even  here  on  earth,"  whis- 
pered Geraldine.  "  Come,  my  beloved;  let  us  fly  far,  far 
hence,  where  no  one  knows  us— where  we  can  cast  from  us 
all  this  hated  splendor,  to  live  for  each  other  and  for  love." 

She  threw  her  arms  about  her  lover,  and  in  the  ecstasy 
of  her  love  she  had  wholly  forgotten  that  she  could  never 
indeed  think  to  flee  with  him,  that  he  belonged  to  her 
only  so  long  as  he  saw  her  not. 

An  inexplicable  anxiety  overpowered  her  heart;  and  in 
this  anxiety  she  forgot  everything — even  the  queen  and' 
the  vengeance  she  had  vowed. 

She  now  remembered  her  father's  words,  and  she  trem- 
bled for  her  lover's  life. 

If  now  her  father  had  not  told  her  the  truth — if  now 
he  had  notwithstanding  sacrificed  Henry  Howard  in  order 
to  ruin  the  queen — if  she  was  not  able  to  save  him,  and 
through  her  fault  he  were  to  perish  on  the  scaffold 


332  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

But  still  this  hour  was  hers,  and  she  would  enjoy  it. 

She  clung  fast  to  his  breast;  she  drew  him  with  irre- 
sistible force  to  her  heart,  which  now  trembled  no  longer 
for  love,  but  from  a  nameless  anxiety. 

"  Let  us  fly!  Lot  us  fly! "  repeated  she,  breathlessly. 
See!  This  hour  is  yet  ours.  Let  us  avail  ourselves 
of  it;  for  who  knows  whether  the  next  will  still  belong 
to  us?" 

"No!  it  is  no  longer  yours,"  yelled  the  king,  as  he 
sprang  like  a  roused  lion  from  his  seat.  "  Your  hours  are 
numbered,  and  the  next  already  belongs  to  the  hangman!  " 

A  piercing  shriek  burst  from  Geraldine's  lips.  Then 
was  heard  a  dull  fall. 

"  She  has  fainted,"  muttered  Earl  Douglas. 

"  Geraldine,  Geraldine,  my  loved  one!"  cried  Henry 
Howard.  "My  God,  my  God!  she  is  dying!  You  have 
killed  her!  Woe  to  you!  " 

"  Woe  to  yourself!  "  said  the  king,  solemnly.  "  Here 
with  the  light!  Here,  you  folks!  " 

The  door  of  the  anteroom  opened,  and  in  it  appeared 
four  soldiers  with  torches  in  their  hands. 

"  Light  the  candles,  and  guard  the  door! "  said  the 
king,  whose  dazzled  eyes  were  not  yet  able  to  bear  this 
bright  glare  of  light  which  now  suddenly  streamed 
through  the  room. 

The  soldiers  obeyed  his  orders.  A  pause  ensued.  The 
king  had  put  his  hand  before  his  eyes,  and  was  struggling 
for  breath  and  self-control. 

When  at  length  he  let  his  hand  glide  down,  his  fea- 
tures had  assumed  a  perfectly  calm,  almost  a  serene  ex- 
pression. 

With  a  hasty  glance  he  surveyed  the  room.  He  saw 
the  queen  in  her  dress  glistening  with  gold;  he  saw  how 
she  lay  on  the  floor,  stretched  at  full  length,  her  face 
turned  to  the  ground,  motionless  and  rigid. 

He  saw  Henry  Howard,  who  knelt  by  his  beloved  and 
was  busy  about  her  with  all  the  anxiety  and  agony  of  a 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  333 

lover.  He  saw  how  he  pressed  her  hands  to  his  lips;  how 
he  put  his  hand  to  her  head  to  raise  it  from  the  floor. 

The  king  was  speechless  with  rage.  He  could  only  lift 
his  arm  to  beckon  the  soldiers  to  approach;  to  point  to 
Henry  Howard,  who  had  not  yet  succeeded  in  raising  the 
queen's  head  from  the  floor. 

"Arrest  him!"  said  Earl  Douglas,  lending  words  to 
the  king's  mute  sign.  "  In  the  king's  name  arrest  him, 
and  conduct  him  to  the  Tower! " 

"  Yes,  arrest  him! "  said  the  king;  and,  as  with  youth- 
ful speed  he  walked  up  to  Henry  Howard  and  put  his  hand 
heavily  on  his  shoulder,  he  with  terrible  calmness  con- 
tinued: "  Henry  Howard,  your  wish  shall  be  fulfilled;  you 
shall  mount  the  scaffold  for  which  you  have  so  much 
longed!" 

The  earl's  noble  countenance  remained  calm  and  un- 
moved; his  bright  beaming  eye  fearlessly  encountered  the 
eye  of  the  king  flashing  with  wrath. 

"  Sire,"  said  he,  "  my  life  is  in  your  hand,  and  I  very 
well  know  that  you  will  not  spare  it.  I  do  not  even  ask 
you  to  do  so.  But  spare  this  noble  and  beautiful  woman, 
whose  only  crime  is  that  she  has  followed  the  voice  of  her 
heart.  Sire,  I  alone  am  the  guilty  one.  Punish  me,  then 
— torture  me,  if  you  like — but  be  merciful  to  her." 

The  king  broke  out  into  a  loud  laugh.  "  Ah,  he  begs 
for  her! "  said  he.  "  This  little  Earl  Surrey  presumes  to 
think  that  his  sentimental  love-plaint  can  exercise  an  in- 
fluence on  the  heart  of  his  judge!  No,  no,  Henry  Howard; 
you  know  me  better.  You  say,  indeed,  that  I  am  a  cruel 
man,  and  that  blood  cleaves  to  my  crown.  Well,  now,  it  is 
our  pleasure  to  set  in  our  crown  a  new  blood-red  ruby;  and 
if  we  want  to  take  it  from  Geraldine's  heart's  blood,  your 
sonnets  will  not  hinder  us  from  doing  so,  my  good  little 
earl.  That  is  all  the  reply  I  have  to  make  to  you;  and  I 
think  it  will  be  the  last  time  that  we  shall  meet  on  earth!  " 

"There  above  we  shall  see  each  other  again,  King 
Henry  of  England! "  said  Earl  Surrey,  solemnly.  "  There 


334:  HENRY    VIIL    ANb   HIS    COURT. 

above  llenry  the  Eighth  will  no  more  be  the  judge,  but 
the  condemned  criminal;  and  your  bloody  and  accursed 
deeds  will  witness  against  you!  " 

The  king  laughed.  "  You  avail  yourself  of  your  ad- 
vantage," said  he.  "  Because  you  have  nothing  more  to 
lose  and  the  scaffold  is  sure  of  you,  you  do  not  stick  at 
heaping  up  the  measure  of  your  sins  a  little  more,  and  you 
revile  your  legitimate,  God-appointed  king!  But  you 
should  bear  in  mind,  earl,  that  before  the  scaffold  there 
is  yet  the  rack,  and  that  it  is  very  possible  indeed  that  a 
painful  question  might  there  be  put  to  the  noble  Earl  Sur- 
rey, to  which  his  agonies  might  prevent  him  from  return- 
ing an  answer.  Now,  away  with  you!  We  have  nothing 
more  to  say  to  each  other  on  earth !  " 

He  motioned  to  the  soldiers,  who  approached  the  Karl 
of  Surrey.  As  they  reached  their  hands  toward  him,  he 
turned  on  them  a  look  so  proud  and  commanding  that  they 
involuntarily  recoiled  a  step. 

"  Follow  me!  "  said  Henry  Howard,  calmly;  and,  with- 
out even  deigning  the  king  a  single  look  more,  with  head 
proudly  erect,  he  walked  to  the  door. 

Geraldine  still  lay  on  the  ground — her  face  turned  to 
the  floor.  She  stirred  not.  She  seemed  to  have  fallen 
into  a  deep  swoon. 

Only  as  the  door  with  a  sullen  sound  closed  behind 
Earl  Surrey,  a  low  wail  and  moan  was  perceived — such  as  is 
wont  to  struggle  forth  at  the  last  hour  from  the  breast  of 
the  dying. 

The  king  did  not  heed  it.  He  still  gazed,  with  eyes 
stern  and  flashing  with  anger,  toward  the  door  through 
which  Earl  Surrey  had  passed. 

"  He  is  unyielding,"  muttered  he.  "  Not  even  the 
rack  affrights  him;  and  in  his  blasphemous  haughtiness  he 
moves  along  in  the  midst  of  the  soldiers,  not  as  a  prisoner, 
but  as  a  commander.  Oh,  these  Howards  are  destined  to 
torment  me;  and  even  their  death  will  scarcely  be  a  full 
satisfaction  to  me." 


HENRY. VTil.    AND   HIS    COURT.  335 

"  Sire,"  said  Earl  Douglas,  who  had  observed  the  king 
with  a  keen,  penetrating  eye,  and  knew  that  he  had  now 
reached  the  height  of  his  wrath,  at  which  he  shrank  from 
no  deed  of  violence  and  no  cruelty — "  sire,  you  have  sent 
Earl  Surrey  to  the  Tower.  But  what  shall  be  done  with 
the  queen,  who  lies  there  on  the  floor  in  a  swoon?  " 

The  king  roused  himself  from  his  reverie;  and  his 
bloodshot  eyes  were  fixed  on  Geraldine's  motionless  form 
with .  so  dark  an  expression  of  hate  and  rage,  that  Earl 
Douglas  exultingly  said  to  himself:  "  The  queen  is  lost! 
He  will  be  inexorable !  " 

"  Ah,  the  queen! "  cried  Henry,  with  a  savage  laugh. 
"  Yea,  verily,  I  forgot  the  queen.  I  did  not  think  of  this 
charming  Geraldine!  But  you  are  right,  Douglas;  we 
must  think  of  her  and  occupy  ourselves  a  little  with  her! 
Did  you  not  say  that  a  second  coach  was  ready?  Well, 
then,  we  will  not  hinder  Geraldine  from  accompanying  her 
beloved.  She  shall  be  where  he  is — in  the  Tower,  and  on 
the  scaffold!  We  will  therefore  wake  this  sentimental 
lady  and  show  her  the  last  duty  of  &  cavalier  by  conducting 
her  to  her  carriage !  " 

He  was  about  to  approach  the  figure  of  the  queen  lying 
on  the  floor.  Earl  Douglas  held  him  back. 

"  Sire,"  said  he,  "  it  is  my  duty — as  your  faithful  sub- 
ject, who  loves  you  and  trembles  for  your  welfare — it  is  my 
duty  to  implore  you  to  spare  yourself  and  preserve  your 
precious  and  adored  person  from  the  venomous  sting  of 
anger  and  grief.  I  conjure  you,  therefore,  do  not  deign 
to  look  again  on  this  woman,  who  has'  so  deeply  injured 
you.  Give  me  your  orders — what  am  I  to  do  with  her — 
and  allow  me  first  of  all  to  accompany  you  to  your  apart- 
ments." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  the  king,  "  she  is  not  worthy  of 
having  my  eyes  rest  on  her  again;  and  she  is  even  too 
contemptible  for  my  anger!  We  will  call  the  soldiers  that 
they  may  conduct  this  traitress  and  adulteress  to  the 
tower,  as  they  have  done  her  paramour." 


336  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

"  Yet  for  that  there  is  needed  still  a  formality.  The 
queen  will  not  be  admitted  into  the  Tower  without  the 
king's  written  and  sealed  order." 

"  Then  I  will  draw  up  that  order." 

"  Sire,  in  that  cabinet  yonder  may  be  found  the  neces- 
sary writing-materials,  if  it  please  your  majesty." 

The  king  leaned  in  .silence  on  the  earl's  arm,  and 
allowed  himself  to  be  led  again  into  the  cabinet. 

With  officious  haste  Earl  Douglas  made  the  necessary 
arrangements.  He  rolled  the  writing-table  up  to  the  king; 
he  placed  the  large  sheet  of  white  paper  in  order,  and 
slipped  the  pen  into  the  king's  hand. 

"What  shall  I  write?"  asked  the  king,  who,  by  the 
exertion  of  his  night's  excursion,  and  of  his  anger  and 
vexation,  began  at  length  to  be  exhausted. 

"  An  order  for  the  queen's  imprisonment,  sire." 

The  king  wrote.  Earl  Douglas  stood  behind  him,  with 
eager  attention,  in  breathless  expectation,  his  look  steadily 
fixed  on  the  paper  over  which  the  king's  hand,  white, 
fleshy,  and  sparkling  with  diamonds,  glided  along  in  hasty 
characters. 

He  had  at  length  reached  his  goal.  WThen  at  last  he 
should  hold  in  his  hand  the  paper  which  the  king  was  then 
writing — when  he  had  induced  Henry  to  return  to  his 
apartments  before  the  imprisonment  of  the  queen  had 
taken  place — then  was  he  victorious.  Not  that  woman 
there  would  he  then  imprison;  but,  with  the  warrant  in 
his  hand,  he  would  go  to  the  real  queen,  and  take  her 
to  the  Tower. 

Once  in  the  Tower,  the  queen  could  no  longer  defend 
herself;  for  the  king  would  see  her  no  more;  and  if  be- 
fore the  Parliament  she  protested  her  innocence  in  ever 
so  sacred  oaths,  still  the  king's  testimony  must  con- 
vict her;  for  he  had  himself  surprised  her  with  her  para- 
mour. 

No,  there  was  no  escape  for  the  queen.  She  had  once 
succeeded  in  clearing  herself  of  an  accusation,  and  proving 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  337 

her  innocence,  by  a  rebutting  alibi.  But  this  time  she 
was  irretrievably  lost,  and  no  alibi  could  deliver  her. 

The  king  completed  his  work  and  arose,  whilst  Doug- 
las, at  his  command,  was  employed  in  setting  the  king's 
seal  to  the  fatal  paper. 

From  the  hall  was  heard  a  slight  noise,  as  though  some 
person  were  cautiously  moving  about  there. 

Earl  Douglas  did  not  notice  it;  he  was  just  in  the  act 
of  pressing  the  signet  hard  on  the  melted  sealing-wax. 

The  king  heard  it,  and  supposed  that  it  was  Geraldine, 
and  that  she  was  just  waking  from  her  swoon  and  rising. 

He  stepped  to  the  door  of  the  hall,  and  looked  toward 
the  place  where  she  was  lying.  But  no — she  had  not  yet 
risen;  she  still  lay  stretched  at  full  length  on  the  floor. 

"  She  has  come  to;  but  she  still  pretends  to  be  in  a 
swoon,"  thought  the  king;  and  he  turned  to  Douglas. 

"  We  are  done,"  said  he;  "  the  warrant  for  imprison- 
ment is  prepared,  and  the  sentence  of  the  adulterous 
queen  is  spoken.  We  have  done  with  her  forever;  and 
never  shall  she  again  behold  our  face,  or  again  hear  our 
voice.  She  is  sentenced  and  damned,  and  the  royal  mercy 
has  nothing  more  to  do  with  this  sinner.  A  curse  on  the 
adulteress!  A  curse  on  the  shameless  woman  who  de- 
ceived her  huband,  and  gave  herself  up  to  a  traitorous 
paramour!  Woe  to  her,  and  may  shame  and  disgrace  for- 
ever mark  her  name,  which " 

Suddenly  the  king  stopped  and  listened.  The  noise 
that  he  had  heard  just  before  was  now  repeated  louder 
and  quicker;  it  came  nearer  and  nearer. 

And  now  the  door  opened  and  a  figure  entered — a 
figure  which  made  the  king  stare  Avith  astonishment  and 
admiration.  It  came  nearer  and  nearer,  light,  graceful, 
and  with  the  freshness  of  youth;  a  gold-brocade  dress 
enveloped  it;  a  diadem  of  diamonds  sparkled  on  the 
brow;  and  brighter  yet  than  the  diamonds  beamed  the 
eyes. 

"No,  the  king  was  not  mistaken.     It  was  the  queen. 


338  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

She  was  standing  before  him — and  yet  she  still  lay  mo- 
tionless and  stiff  upon  the  floor  yonder. 

The  king  uttered  a  cry,  and,  turning  pale,  reeled  a  step 
backward. 

"  The  queen! "  exclaimed  Douglas,  in  terror;  and  he 
trembled  so  violently  that  the  paper  in  his  hand  rattled 
and  fluttered. 

"  Yes,  the  queen! "  said  Catharine,  with  a  haughty 
smile.  "  The  queen,  who  comes  to  scold  her  husband, 
that,  contrary  to  his  physician's  orders,  he  still  refrains 
from  his  slumbers  at  so  late  an  hour  of  the  night." 

"  And  the  fool !  "  said  John  Heywood,  as  with  humor- 
ous pathos  he  stepped  forward  from  behind  the  queen — 
"  the  fool,  who  comes  to  ask  Earl  Douglas  how  he  dared 
deprive  John  Heywood  of  his  office,  and  usurp  the  place  of 
king's  fool  to  Henry,  and  deceive  his  most  gracious  majesty 
with  all  manner  of  silly  pranks  and  carnival  tricks." 

"  And  who " — asked  the  king,  in  a  voice  quivering 
with  rage,  fastening  his  flashing  looks  on  Douglas  witli 
an  annihilating  expression — "who,  then,  is  that  woman 
there?  Who  has  dared  with  such  cursed  mummery  to 
deceive  the  king,  and  calumniate  the  queen?  " 

"  Sire,"  said  Earl  Douglas,  who  very  well  knew  that 
his  future  and  that  of  his  daughter  depended  on  the  pres- 
ent moment,  and  whom  this  consciousness  had  speedily 
restored  to  his  self-possession  and  calmness — "  sire,  I  be- 
seech your  majesty  for  a  moment  of  private  explanation; 
and  I  shall  be  entirely  successful  in  vindicating  myself." 

"  Do  not  grant  it  him,  brother  Henry,"  said  John  Hey- 
wood; "  he  is  a  dangerous  juggler;  and  who  knows  whether 
he  may  not  yet,  in  his  private  conversation,  convince  you 
that  he  is  king,  and  you  nothing  more  than  his  lickspittle, 
fawning,  hypocritical  servant  Earl  Archibald  Douglas." 

"My  lord  and  husband,  I  beg  you  to  hear  the  earl's 
justification,"  said  Catharine,  as  she  extended  her  hand 
to  the  king  with  a  bewitching  smile.  "  It  would  be  cruel 
to  condemn  him  unheard." 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  339 

"  I  will  hear  him,  but  it  shall  be  done  in  your  presence, 
Kate,  and  you  yourself  shall  decide  whether  or  not  bis 
justification  is  sufficient." 

"  No  indeed,  my  husband;  let  me  remain  an  entire 
stranger  to  this  night's  conspiracy,  so  that  spite  and  anger 
may  not  fill  my  heart  and  rob  me  of  the  supreme  confidence 
which  I  need,  to  be  able  to  walk  on  at  your  side  happy  and 
smiling  in  the  midst  of  my  enemies." 

"  You  are  right,  Kate,"  said  the  king,  thoughtfully. 
"  You  have  many  enemies  at  our  court;  and  we  have  to 
accuse  ourselves  that  we  have  not  always  succeeded  in  stop- 
ping our  ear  to  their  malicious  whisperings,  and  in  keep- 
ing ourselves  pure  from  the  poisonous  breath  of  their  cal- 
umny. Our  heart  is  still  too  artless,  and  we  cannot  even 
yet  comprehend  that  men  are  a  disgusting,  corrupt  race, 
which  one  should  tread  beneath  his  feet,  but  never  take  to 
his  heart.  Come,  Earl  Douglas,  I  will  hear  you;  but  woe 
to  you,  if  you  are  unable  to  justify  yourself!  " 

He  retired  to  the  embrasure  of  the  large  window  of 
the  boudoir.  Earl  Douglas  followed  him  thither,  and  let 
the  heavy  velvet  curtain  drop  behind  them. 

"  Sire,"  said  he,  hardily  and  resolutely,  "  the  question 
now  is  this:  Whose  head  would  you  rather  give  over  to 
the  executioner,  mine  or  the  Earl  of  Surrey's?  You  have 
the  choice  between  the  two.  You  are  aware  that  I  have 
ventured  for  a  moment  to  deceive  you.  Well,  send  me  to 
the  Tower  then,  and  set  free  the  noble  Henry  Howard, 
that  he  may  henceforth  disturb  your  sleep  and  poison  your 
days;  that  he  may  further  court  the  love  of  the  people, 
and  perhaps  some  day  rob  your  son  of  the  throne  that  be- 
longs to  him.  Here  is  my  head,  sire;  it  is  forfeited  to  the 
headsman's  axe,  and  Earl  Surrey  is  free!" 

"  ISTo,  he  is  not  free,  and  never  shall  be! "  said  the  king, 
grinding  his  teeth. 

"  Then,  my  king,  I  am  justified;  and  instead  of  being 
angry  with  me,  you  will  thank  me?  It  is  true  I  have 
played  a  hazardous  game,  but  I  did  so  in  the  service  of  my 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

king.  I  did  it  because  I  loved  him,  and  because  I  read  on 
your  lofty  clouded  brow  the  thoughts  that  begirt  with 
darkness  my  master's  soul,  and  disturbed  the  sleep  of  his 
nights.  You  wanted  to  have  Henry  Howard  in  your 
power;  and  this  crafty  and  hypocritical  earl  knew  how  to 
conceal  his  guilt  so  securely  under  the  mask  of  virtue  and 
loftiness  of  soul!  But  I  knew  him,  and  behind  this  mask 
1  had  seen  his  face  distorted  with  passion  and  crime.  I 
wanted  to  unmask  him;  but  for  this,  it  was  necessary 
that  I  should  deceive  first  him,  and  then  for  the  hour 
even  yourself.  I  knew  that  he  burned  with  an  adulter- 
ous love  for  the  queen,  and  I  wanted  to  avail  myself  of 
the  madness  of  this  passion,  in  order  to  bring  him  surely 
and  unavoidably  to  a  richly-deserved  punishment.  But  I 
would  not  draw  the  pure  and  exalted  person  of  the  queen 
into  this  net  with  which  we  wanted  to  surround  Earl  Sur- 
rey. I  was  obliged,  then,  to  seek  a  substitute  for  her;  and 
I  did  so.  There  was  at  your  court  a  woman  whose  whole 
heart  belongs,  after  God,  to  the  king  alone;  and  who  so 
much  adores  him,  that  she  would  be  ready  at  any  hour 
gladly  to  sacrifice  for  the  king  her  heart's  blood,  her  whole 
being — ay,  if  need  be,  even  her  honor  itself — a  woman, 
sire,  who  lives  by  your  smile,  and  worships  you  as  her  re- 
deemer and  savior — a  woman  whom  you  might,  as  you 
pleased,  make  a  saint  or  a  strumpet;  and  who,  to  please 
you,  would  be  a  shameless  Phyrne  or  a  chaste  veiled  nun." 

"  Tell  me  her  name,  Douglas,"  said  the  king,  "  tell 
me  it!  It  is  a  rare  and  precious  stroke  of  fortune  to  be 
so  loved;  and  it  would  be  a  sin  not  to  want  to  enjoy  this 
good  fortune." 

"  Sire,  I  will  tell  you  her  name  when  you  have  first 
forgiven  me,"  said  Douglas,  whose  heart  leaped  for  joy, 
and  who  well  understood  that  the  king's  anger  was  already 
mollified  and  the  danger  now  almost  overcome.  "  I  said 
to  this  woman:  'You  are  to  do  the  king  a  great  service; 
you  are  to  deliver  him  from  a  powerful  and  dangerous  foe! 
You  are  to  save  him  from  Henry  Howard! '  '  Tell  me 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  34-1 

what  I  must  do! '  cried  she,  her  looks  beaming  with  joy. 
'  Henry  Howard  loves  the  queen.  You  must  be  the  queen 
to  him.  You  must  receive  his  letters,  and  answer  them 
in  the  queen's  name.  You  must  grant  him  interviews  by 
night,  and,  favored  by  the  darkness  of  the  night,  make 
him  believe  that  it  is  the  queen  whom  he  holds  in  his  arms. 
He  must  be  convinced  that  the  queen  is  his  lady-love;  and 
in  his  thoughts,  as  in  his  deeds,  he  must  be  placed  before 
the  king  as  a  traitor  and  criminal  whose  head  is  forfeited 
to  the  headsman's  axe.  One  day  we  will  let  the  king  be 
a  witness  of  a  meeting  that  Henry  Howard  believes  he 
has  with  the  queen;  it  will  then  be  in  his  power  to  punish 
his  enemy  for  his  criminal  passion,  which  is  worthy  of 
death ! '  And  as  I  thus  spoke  to  the  woman,  sire,  she  said 
with  a  sad  smile:  '  It  is  a  disgraceful  and  dishonorable  part 
that  you  assign  me;  but  I  undertake  it,  for  you  say  I  may 
thereby  render  a  service  to  the  king.  I  shall  disgrace  my- 
self for  him;  but  he  will  perhaps  bestow  upon  me  in 
return  a  gracious  smile;  and  then  I  shall  be  abundantly 
rewarded.' '' 

"  But  this  woman  is  an  angel! "  cried  the  king,  ardent- 
ly— "  an  angel  whom  we  should  kneel  to  and  adore.  Tell 
me  her  name,  Douglas!  " 

"  Sire,  as  soon  as  you  have  forgiven  me !  You  know 
now  all  my  guilt  and  all  my  crime.  For,  as  I  bade  that 
noble  woman,  so  it  came  to  pass,  and  Henry  Howard  has 
gone  to  the  Tower  in  the  firm  belief  that  it  was  the  queen 
whom  he  just  now  held  in  his  arms." 

"But  why  did  you  leave  me  in  this  belief,  Douglas? 
Why  did  you  fill  my  heart  with  wrath  against  the  noble 
and  virtuous  queen  also?  " 

"  Sire,  I  dared  not  reveal  the  deception  to  you  before 
you  had  sentenced  Surrey,  for  your  noble  and  just  moral 
sense  would  have  been  reluctant  to  punish  him  on  account 
of  a  crime  that  he  had  not  committed;  and  in  your  first 
wrath  you  would  also  have  blamed  this  noble  woman  who 
has  sacrificed  herself  for  her  king." 


342  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

"  It  is  true,"  said  the  king,  "  I  should  have  misjudged 
this  noble  woman,  and,  instead  of  thanking  her,  I  should 
have  destroyed  her." 

"  Therefore,  my  king,  I  quietly  allowed  you  to  make 
out  an  order  for  the  queen's  incarceration.  But  you  re- 
member well,  sire,  I  begged  you  to  return  to  your  apart- 
ments before  the  queen  was  arrested.  Well,  now,  there  I 
should  have  disclosed  to  you  the  whole  secret,  which  I 
could  not  tell  you  in  the  presence  of  that  woman.  For 
she  would  die  of  shame  if  she  suspected  that  you  knew  of 
her  love  for  the  king,  so  pure  and  self-sacrificing,  and  cher- 
ished in  such  heroic  silence." 

"  She  shall  never  know  it,  Douglas!  But  now  at 
length  satisfy  my  desire.  Tell  me  her  name." 

"  Sire,  you  have  forgiven  me,  then?  You  are  no 
longer  angry  with  me  that  I  dared  to  deceive  you?  " 

"  I  am  no  longer  angry  with  you,  Douglas;  for  you 
have  acted  rightly.  The  plan,  which  you  have  contrived 
and  carried  out  with  such  happy  results,  was  as  crafty  as  it 
was  daring." 

"  I  thank  you,  sire;  and  I  will  now  tell  you  the  name. 
That  woman,  sire,  who  at  my  wish  gave  herself  up  a  sacri- 
fice to  this  adulterous  earl,  who  endured  his  kisses,  his  em- 
braces, his  vows  of  love,  in  order  to  render  a  service  to  her 
king — that  woman  was  my  daughter,  Lady  Jane  Douglas!'' 

"  Lady  Jane!  "  cried  the  king.  "  No,  no,  this  is  a  new 
deception.  That  haughty,  chaste,  ,and  unapproachable 
Lady  Jane — that  wonderfully  beautiful  marble  statue 
really  has  then  a  heart  in  her  breast,  and  that  heart  be- 
longs to  me?  Lady  Jane,  the  pure  and  chaste  virgin,  has 
made  for  me  this  prodigious  sacrifice,  of  receiving  this 
hated  Surrey  as  her  lover,  in  order,  like  a  second  Delilah, 
to  deliver  him  into  my  hand?  No,  Douglas,  you  are  lying 
to  me.  Lady  Jane  has  not  done  that!  " 

"  May  it  please  your  majesty  to  go  yourself  and  take  a 
look  at  that  fainting  woman,  who  was  to  Henry  Howard 
the  queen." 


HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  343 

The  king  did  not  reply  to  him;  but  he  drew  back  the 
curtain  and  reentered  the  cabinet,  in  which  the  queen  was 
waiting  with  John  Heywood. 

Henry  did  not  notice  them.  With  youthful  precipita- 
tion he  crossed  the  cabinet  and  the  hall.  Now  he  stood  by 
the  figure  of  Geraldine  still  lying  on  the  floor. 

She  was  no  longer  in  a  swoon.  She  had  long  since  re- 
gained her  consciousness;  and  terrible  were  the  agonies 
and  tortures  that  rent  her  heart.  Henry  Howard  had  in- 
curred the  penalty  of  the  headsman's  axe,  and  it  was  she 
that  had  betrayed  him. 

But  her  father  had  sworn  to  her  that  she  should  save 
her  lover. 

She  durst  not  die  then.  She  must  live  to  deliver 
Henry  Howard. 

There  were  burning,  as  it  were,  the  fires  of  hell  in  her 
poor  heart;  but  she  was  not  at  liberty  to  heed  these  pains. 
She  could  not  think  of  herself — only  of  him — of  Henry 
Howard,  whom  she  must  deliver,  whom  she  must  save  from 
an  ignominious  death. 

For  him  she  sent  up  her  fervent  prayers  to  God;  for 
him  her  heart  trembled  with  anxiety  and  agony,  as  the 
king  now  advanced  to  her,  and,  bending  down,  gazed  into 
her  eyes  with  a  strange  expression,  at  once  scrutinizing 
and  smiling. 

"  Lady  Jane,"  said  he  then,  as  he  presented  her  his 
hand,  "  arise  from  the  ground  and  allow  your  king  to  ex- 
press to  you  his  thanks  for  your  sublime  and  wonderful 
sacrifice!  Verily,  it  is  a  fair  lot  to  be  a  king;  for  then  one 
has  at  least  the  power  of  punishing  traitors,  and  of  reward- 
ing those  that  serve  us.  I  have  to-day  done  the  one,  and  I 
will  not  neglect  to  do  the  other  also.  Stand  up,  then, 
Lady  Jane;  it  does  not  become  you  to  lie  on  your  knees 
before  me." 

"  Oh,  let  me  kneel,  my  king,"  said  she,  passionately; 
"let  me  beseech  you  for  mercy,  for  pity!  Have  compas- 
sion, King  Henry — compassion  on  the  anxiety  and  agony 


344  HENRY    Vm.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

which  I  endure.  It  is  not  possible  that  this  is  all  a  reality! 
that  this  juggling  is  to  be  changed  into  such  terrible  ear- 
nest! Tell  me,  King  Henry — I  conjure  you  by  the  agonies 
which  I  suffer  for  your  sake — tell  me,  what  will  you  do 
with  Henry  Howard?  Why  have  you  sent  him  to  the 
Tower?  " 

"  To  punish  the  traitor  as  he  deserves,"  said  the  king, 
as  he  cast  a  dark  and  angry  look  across  at  Douglas,  who 
had  also  approached  his  daughter,  and  was  now  standing 
close  by  her. 

Lady  Jane  uttered  a  heartrending  cry,  and  sank  down 
again,  senseless  and  completely  exhausted. 

The  king  frowned.  "  It  is  possible,"  said  he — "  and  I 
almost  believe  it — that  I  have  been  deceived  in  many 
ways  this  evening,  and  that  now  again  my  guilelessness  has 
been  played  upon  in  order  to  impose  upon  me  a  charming 
story.  However,  I  have  given  my  word  to  pardon;  and  it 
shall  not  be  said  that  Henry  the  Eighth,  who  calls  himself 
God's  vicegerent,  has  ever  broken  his  word;  nor  even  that 
he  has  punished  those  whom  he  has  assured  of  exemption 
from  punishment.  My  Lord  Douglas,  I  will  fulfil  my 
promise.  I  forgive  you." 

He  extended  his  hand  to  Douglas,  who  kissed  it  fer- 
vently. The  king  bent  down  closer  to  him.  "  Douglas," 
whispered  he,  "  you  are  as  cunning  as  a  serpent;  and  I  now 
see  through  your  artfully-woven  web!  You  wanted  to  de- 
stroy Surrey,  but  the  queen  was  to  sink  into  the  abyss  with 
him.  Because  I  am  indebted  to  you  for  Surrey,  I  forgive 
you  what  you  have  done  to  the  queen.  But  take  heed  to 
yourself,  take  heed  that  I  do  not  meet  you  again  on  the 
same  track;  do  not  ever  try  again,  by  a  look,  a  word,  ay, 
even  by  a  smile,  to  cast  suspicion  on  the  queen.  The 
slightest  attempt  would  cost  you  your  life!  That  I  swear 
to  you  by  the  holy  mother  of  God;  and  you  know  that  I 
have  never  yet  broken  that  oath.  As  regards  Lady  Jane, 
we  do  not  want  to  consider  that  she  has  misused  the  name 
of  our  illustrious  and  virtuous  consort  in  order  to  draw  this 


HENEY   VHI.    AND  HIS   COUET.  345 

lustful  and  adulterous  earl  into  the  net  which  you  had  set 
for  him;  she  obeyed  your  orders,  Douglas;  and  we  will  not 
now  decide  what  other  motives  besides  have  urged  her  to 
this  deed.  She  may  settle  that  with  God  and  her  own 
conscience,  and  it  does  not  behoove  us  to  decide  about  it." 

"  But  it  behooves  me,  perhaps,  my  husband,  to  ask  by 
what  right  Lady  Jane  has  dared  to  appear  here  in  this  at- 
tire, and  to  present  to  a  certain  degree  a  counterfeit  of 
her  queen?"  asked  Catharine  in  a  sharp  tone.  "I  may 
well  be  allowed  to  ask  what  has  made  my  maid  of  honor, 
who  left  the  festive  hall  sick,  now  all  at  once  so  well  that 
she  goes  roaming  about  the  castle  in  the  night  time,  and 
in  a  dress  which  seems  likely  to  be  mistaken  for  mine? 
Sire,  was  this  dress  perchance  a  craftily-devised  stratagem, 
in  order  to  really  confound  us  with  one  another?  You  are 
silent,  my  lord  and  king.  It  is  true,  then,  they  have  want- 
ed to  carry  out  a  terrible  plot  against  me;  and,  without  the 
assistance  of  my  faithful  and  honest  friend,  John  Hey- 
wood,  who  brought  me  here,  I  should  without  doubt  be 
now  condemned  and  lost,  as  the  Earl  of  Surrey  is." 

"  Ah,  John,  it  was  you  then  that  brought  a  little  light 
into  this  darkness?  "  cried  the  king,  with  a  cheerful  laugh, 
as  he  laid  his  hand  on  Heywood's  shoulder.  "  Now,  verily, 
what  the  wise  and  prudent  did  not  see,  that  the  fool  has 
seen  through ! " 

"  King  Henry  of  England,"  said  John  Heywood,  sol- 
emnly, "  many  call  themselves  wise,  and  yet  they  are  fools; 
and  many  assume  the  mask  of  folly,  because  fools  are  al- 
lowed to  be  wise." 

"  Kate,"  said  the  king,  "  you  are  right;  this  was  a  bad 
night  for  you,  but  God  and  the  fool  have  saved  you  and  me. 
We  will  both  be  thankful  for  it.  But  it  is  well  if  you  do 
as  you  before  wished,  and  ask  and  inquire  nothing  more 
concerning  the  mysteries  of  this  night.  It  was  brave  in 
you  to  come  here,  and  I  will  be  mindful  of  it.  Come,  my 
little  queen,  give  me  your  arm  and  conduct  me  to  my 
apartments.  I  tell  you,  child,  it  gives  me  joy  to  be  able 
23 


346  HEXRY    VIII.    AND   HTS   COURT. 

to  lean  on  your  arm,  and  see  your  dear  sprightly  face 
blanched  by  no  fear  or  terrors  of  conscience.  Come,  Kate, 
you  alone  shall  lead  me,  and  to  you  alone  will  I  trust 
myself." 

"  Sire,  you  are  too  heavy  for  the  queen,"  said  the  fool, 
as  he  put  his  neck  under  the  other  arm.  "  Let  me  share 
with  her  the  burden  of  royalty." 

"  But  before  we  go,"  said  Catharine,  "  I  have,  my  hus- 
band, one  request.  Will  you  grant  it?  " 

"  I  will  grant  you  everything  that  you  may  ask,  pro- 
vided you  will  not  require  me  to  send  you  to  the  Tower." 

"  Sire,  I  wish  to  dismiss  my  maid  of  honor,  Lady  Jane 
Douglas,  from  my  service — that  is  all,"  said  the  queen,  as 
her  eyes  glanced  with  an  expression  of  contempt,  and  yet 
at  the  same  time  of  pain,  at  the  form  of  her  friend  of  other 
days,  prostrate  on  the  floor. 

"  She  is  dismissed!  "  said  the  king.  "  You  will  choose 
another  maid  of  honor  to-morrow.  Come,  Kate!  " 

And  the  king,  supported  by  his  consort  and  John  Hey- 
wood,  left  the  room  with  slow  and  heavy  steps. 

Earl  Douglas  watched  them  with  a  sullen,  hateful  ex- 
pression. As  the  door  closed  after  them  he  raised  his  arm 
threateningly  toward  heaven,  and  his  trembling  lips  ut- 
tered a  fierce  curse  and  execration. 

"Vanquished!  vanquished  again!"  muttered  he, 
gnashing  his  teeth.  "  Humbled  by  this  woman  whom  I 
hate,  and  whom  I  will  yet  destroy!  Yes,  she  has  con- 
quered this  time;  but  we  will  commence  the  struggle 
anew,  and  our  envenomed  weapon  shall  nevertheless  strike 
her  at  last!" 

Suddenly  he  felt  a  hand  laid  heavily  on  his  shoulder, 
and  a  pair  of  glaring,  flaming  eyes  gazed  at  him. 

"  Father,"  said  Lady  Jane,  as  she  threw  her  right  hand 
threateningly  toward  heaven — "  father,  as  true  as  there 
is  a  God  above  UB,  I  will  accuse  you  yourself  to  the  king  as 
a  traitor — I  will  betray  to  him  all  your  accursed  plots — if 
you  do  not  help  me  to  deliver  Henry  Howard!  " 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  347 

Her  father  looked  with  an  expression  almost  melan- 
choly in  her  face,  painfully  convulsed  and  pale  as  marble. 
"  I  will  help  you!  "  said  he.  "I  will  do  it,  if  you  will  help 
me  also,  and  further  my  plans." 

"  Oh,  only  save  Henry  Howard,  and  I  will  sign  myself 
away  to  the  devil  with  my  heart's  hlood!  "said  Jane  Doug- 
las, with  a  horrible  smile.  "  Save  his  life,  or,  if  you  have 
not  the  power  to  do  that,  then  at  least  procure  me  the  hap- 
piness of  being  able  to  die  with  him." 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

UNDECEIVED. 

PARLIAMENT,  which  had  not  for  a  long  time  now  ven- 
tured to  offer  any  further  opposition  to  the  king's  will — , 
Parliament  had  acquiesced  in  his  decree.  It  had  accused 
Earl  Surrey  of  high  treason;  and,  on  the  sole  testimony  of 
his  mother  and  his  sister,  he  had  been  declared  guilty  of 
Use  majeste  and  high  treason.  A  few  words  of  discontent 
at  his  removal  from  office,  some  complaining  remarks 
about  the  numerous  executions  that  drenched  England's 
soil  with  blood — that  was  all  that  the  Duchess  of  Kich- 
'mond  had  been  able  to  bring  against  him.  That  he,  like 
his  father,  bore  the  arms  of  the  Kings  of  England — that 
was  the  only  evidence  of  high  treason  of  which  his  mother 
the  Duchess  of  Norfolk  could  charge  him.* 

These  accusations  were  of  so  trivial  a  character,  that 
the  Parliament  well  knew  they  were  not  the  ground  of  his 
arrest,  but  only  a  pretext  for  it — only  a  pretext,  by  which 
the  king  said  to  his  pliant  and  trembling  Parliament: 
"  This  man  is  innocent;  but  I  will  that  you  condemn  him, 
and  therefore  you  will  account  the  accusation  sufficient." 

*  Tytler,  p.  402.    Burnet,  vol.  i,  p.  95. 


34:8  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

Parliament  had  not  the  courage  to  oppose  the  king's 
will.  These  members  of  Parliament  were  nothing  more 
than  a  flock  of  sheep,  who,  in  trembling  dread  of  the  sharp 
teeth  of  the  dog,  go  straight  along  the  path  which  the  dog 
shows  them. 

The  king  wanted  them  to  condemn  the  Earl  of  Surrey, 
and  they  condemned  him. 

They  summoned  him  before  their  judgment-seat,  and 
it  was  in  vain  that  he  proved  his  innocence  in  a  speech 
spirited  and  glowing  with  eloquence.  These  noble  mem- 
bers of  Parliament  would  not  see  that  he  was  innocent. 

It  is  true,  indeed,  there  were  a  few  who  were  ashamed 
to  bow  their  heads  so  unreservedly  beneath  the  king's 
sceptre,  which  dripped  with  blood  like  a  headsman's  axe. 
There  were  still  a  few  to  whom  the  accusation  appeared  in- 
sufficient; but  they  were  outvoted;  and  in  order  to  give 
Parliament  a  warning  example,  the  king,  on  the  very  same 
day,  had  these  obstinate  ones  arrested  and  accused  of  some 
pretended  crime.  For  this  people,  enslaved  by  the  king's 
cruelty  and  savage  barbarity,  were  already  so  degenerate 
and  debased  in  self-consciousness,  that  men  were  always 
and  without  trouble  found,  who,  in  order  to  please  the 
king  and  his  bloodthirstiness  and  sanctimonious  hypocrisy, 
degraded  themselves  to  informers,  and  accused  of  crime 
those  whom  the  king's  dark  frown  had  indicated  to  them 
as  offenders. 

So  Parliament  had  doomed  the  Earl  of  Surrey  to  die, 
and  the  king  had  signed  his  death-warrant. 

Early  next  morning  he  was  to  be  executed;  and  in  the 
Tower-yard  the  workmen  were  already  busy  in  erecting 
the  scaffold  on  which  the  noble  earl  was  to  be  beheaded. 

Henry  Howard  was  alone  in  his  cell.  He  had  done 
with  life  and  earthly  things.  He  had  set  his  house  in 
order  and  made  his  will;  he  had  written  to  his  mother  and 
sister,  and  forgiven  them  for  their  treachery  and  accusa- 
tion; he  had  addressed  a  letter  to  his  father,  in  which  he 
exhorted  him,  in  words  as  noble  as  they  were  touching,  to 


HENRY    Yin.    AND   HIS    COURT.  34.9 

steadfastness  and  calmness,  and  bade  him  not  to  weep  for 
him,  for  death  was  his  desire,  and 'the  grave  the  only 
refuge  for  which  he  longed. 

He  had  then,  as  we  have  said,  done  with  life;  and 
earthly  things  no  longer  disturbed  him.  He  felt  no  regret 
and  no  fear.  Life  had  left  him  nothing  more  to  wish; 
and  he  almost  thanked  the  king  that  he  would  so  soon  de- 
liver him  from  the  burden  of  existence. 

The  future  had  nothing  more  to  offer  him;  why  then 
should  he  desire  it?  Why  long  for  a  life  which  could  be 
for  him  now  only  an  isolated,  desolate,  and  gloomy  one? 
For  Geraldine  was  lost  to  him!  He  knew  not  her  fate; 
and  no  tidings  of  her  had  penetrated  to  him  through  the 
solitary  prison  walls.  Did  the  queen  still  live?  Or  had 
the  king  in  his  wrath  murdered  her  on  that  very  night 
when  Henry  was  carried  to  the  Tower,  and  his  last  look  be- 
held his  beloved  lying  at  her  husband's  feet,  swooning  and 
rigid. 

What  had  become  of  the  queen — of  Henry  Howard's 
beloved  Geraldine?  He  knew  nothing  of  her.  He  had 
hoped  in  vain  for  some  note,  some  message  from  her;  but 
he  had  not  dared  to  ask  any  one  as  to  her  fate.  Perhaps 
the  king  desisted  from  punishing  her  likewise.  Perhaps 
his  murderous  inclination  had  been  satisfied  by  putting 
Henry  Howard  to  death;  and  Catharine  escaped  the  scaf- 
fold. It  might,  therefore,  have  been  ruinous  to  her,  had 
he,  the  condemned,  inquired  after  her.  Or,  if  she  had 
gone  before  him,  then  he  was  certain  of  finding  her  again, 
and  of  being  united  with  her  forevermore  beyond  the 
grave. 

He  believed  in  a  hereafter,  for  he  loved;  and  death  did 
not  affright  him,  for  after  death  came  the  reunion  with 
her,  with  Geraldine,  who  either  was  already  waiting  for 
him  there  above,  or  would  soon  follow  him. 

Life  had  nothing  more  to  offer  him.  Death  united 
him  to  his  beloved.  He  hailed  death  as  his  friend  and 
savior,  as  the  priest  who  was  to  unite  him  to  his  Geraldine. 


350  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

He  heard  the  great  Tower  clock  of  the  prison  which 
with  threatening  stroke  made  known  the  hour;  and  each 
jrassing  hour  he  hailed  with  a  joyous  throb  of  the  heart. 
The  evening  came  and  deep  night  descended  upon  him — 
the  last  night  that  was  allotted  to  him — the  last  night  that 
separated  him  from  his  Geraldine. 

The  turnkey  opened  tjie  door  to  bring  the  earl  a  light, 
and  to  ask  whether  he  had  any  orders  to  give.  Heretofore 
it  had  been  the  king's  special  command  not  to  allow  him  a 
light  in  his  cell;  and  he  had  spent  these  six  long  evenings 
and  nights  of  his  imprisonment  in  darkness.  But  to-day 
they  were  willing  to  give  him  a  light;  to-day  they  were 
willing  to  allow  him  everything  that  he  might  still  desire. 
The  life  which  he  must  leave  in  a  few  hours  was  to  be 
once  more  adorned  for  him  with  all  charms  and  enjoy- 
ments which  he  might  ask  for.  Henry  Howard  had  but  to 
wish,  and  the  jailer  was  ready  to  furnish  him  everything. 

But  Henry  Howard  wished  for  nothing;  he  demanded 
nothing,  save  that  they  would  leave  him  alone — save  that 
they  woiild  remove  from  his  prison  this  light  which  daz- 
zled him,  and  which  opposed  to  his  enrapturing  dreams  the 
disenchanting  reality. 

The  king,  who  had  wanted  to  impose  a  special  punish- 
ment in  condemning  him  to  darkness — the  king  had,  con- 
trary to  his  intention,  become  thereby  his  benefactor.  For 
with  darkness  came  dreams  and  fantasies.  With  the  dark- 
ness came  Geraldine. 

When  night  and  silence  were  all  around  him,  then  there 
was  light  within;  and  an  enchanting  whisper  and  a  sweet, 
enticing  voice  resounded  within  him.  The  gates  of  his 
prison  sprang  open,  and  on  the  wings  of  thought  Henry 
Howard  soared  away  from  that  dismal  and  desolate  place. 
On  the  wings  of  thought  he  came  to  lier — to  his  Geraldine. 

Again  she  was  by  him,  in  the  large,  silent  hall.  Again 
night  lay  upon  them,  like  a  veil  concealing,  blessing,  and 
enveloping  them;  and  threw  its  protection  over  their  em- 
braces and  their  kisses.  Solitude  allowed  him  to  hear 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  351 

again  the  dear  music  of  her  voice,  which  sang  for  him  so 
enchanting  a  melody  of  love  and  ecstasy. 

Henry  Howard  must  be  alone,  so  that  he  can  hear  his 
Geraldine.  Deep  darkness  must  surround  him,  so  that  his 
Geraldine  can  come  to  him. 

He  demanded,  therefore,  for  his  last  night,  nothing 
further  than  to  be  left  alone,  and  without  a  light.  The 
jailer  extinguished  the  light  and  left  the  cell.  But  he  did 
not  shove  the  great  iron  bolt  across  the  door.  He  did  not 
put  the  large  padlock  on  it,  but  he  only  left  the  door 
slightly  ajar,  and  did  not  lock  it  at  all. 

Henry  Howard  took  no  notice  of  this.  What  cared  he, 
whether  this  gate  was  locked  or  no — he  who  no  longer  had 
a  desire  for  life  and  freedom! 

He  leaned  back  on  his  seat,  and  dreamed  with  eyes 
open.  There  below  in  the  yard  they  were  working  on  the 
scaffold  which  Henry  Howard  was  to  ascend  as  soon  as 
day  dawned.  The  dull  monotony  of  the  strokes  of  the 
hammers  fell  on  his  ear.  Now  and  then  the  torches, 
which  lighted  the  workmen  at  their  melancholy  task,  al- 
lowed to  shine  up  into  his  cell  a  pale  glimmer  of  light, 
which  danced  on  the  walls  in  ghost-like  shapes. 

"  There  are  the  ghosts  of  all  those  that  Henry  has  put 
to  death/'  thought  Henry  Howard;  "  they  gather  around 
me;  like  will-o'-the-wisps,  they  dance  with  me  the  dance 
of  death,  and  in  a  few  hours  I  shall  be  forever  theirs." 

The  dull  noise  of  hammers  and  saws  continued  steadily 
on,  and  Henry  Howard  sank  deeper  and  deeper  in  reverie. 

He  thought,  he  felt,  and  desired  nothing  but  Geral- 
dine. His  whole  soul  was  concentrated  in  that  single 
thought  of  her.  It  seemed  to  him  he  could  bid  his  spirit 
see  her,  as  though  he  could  command  his  senses  to  perceive 
her.  Yes,  she  was  there;  he  felt — he  was  conscious  of  her 
presence.  Again  he  lay  at  her  feet,  and  leaned  his  head 
on  her  knee,  and  listened  again  to  those  charming  revela- 
tions of  her  love. 

Completely  borne  away  from  the  present,  and  from 


352  HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

existence,  he  saw,  he  felt,  only  her.  The  mystery  of  love 
was  perfected,  and,  under  the  veil  of  night,  Geraldine  had 
again  winged  her  way  to  him,  and  he  to  her. 

A  happy  smile  played  about  his  lips,  which  faltered 
forth  rapturous  words  of  greeting.  Overcome  by  a  won- 
derful hallucination,  he  saw  his  beloved  approaching  him; 
he  stretched  out  his  arms  to  clasp  her;  and  it  did  not 
arouse  him  when  he  felt  instead  of  her  only  the  empty  air. 

"Why  do  you  float  away  from  me  again,  Geraldine?" 
asked  he,  in  a  low  tone.  "  Wherefore  do  you  withdraw 
from  my  arms,  to  whirl  with  the  will-o'-the-wisps  in  the 
death-dance?  Come,  Geraldine,  come;  my  soul  burns 
for  you.  My  heart  calls  you  with  its  last  faltering  throb. 
Come,  Geraldine,  oh,  come!" 

What  was  that?  It  was  as  though  the  door  were  gen- 
tly opened,  and  the  latch  again  gently  fastened.  It  was  as 
though  a  foot  were  moving  softly  over  the  floor — as  though 
the  shape  of  a  human  form  shaded  for  a  moment  the  flick- 
ering light  which  danced  around  the  walls. 

Henry  Howard  saw  it  not. 

He  saw  naught  but  his  Geraldine,  whom  he  with  so 
much  fervency  and  longing  wished  by  his  side.  He  spread 
his  arms;  he  called  her  with  all  the  ardor,  all  the  enthu- 
siasm of  a  lover. 

Now  he  uttered  a  cry  of  ecstasy.  His  prayer  of  love 
was  answered.  The  dream  had  become  a  reality.  His 
arms  no  longer  clasped  the  empty  air;  they  pressed  to  his 
breast  the  woman  whom  he  loved,  and 'for  whom  he  was 
to  die. 

He  pressed  his  lips  to  her  mouth  and  she  returned  his 
kisses.  He  threw  his  arms  around  her  form,  and  she 
pressed  him  fast,  fast  to  her  bosom. 

Was  this  a  reality?  Or  was  it  madness  that  was  creep- 
ing upon  him  and  seizing  upon  his  brain,  and  deceiving 
him  with  fantasies  so  enchanting? 

Henry  Howard  shuddered  as  he  thought  this,  and,  fall- 
ing upon  his  knees,  he  cried  in  a  voice  trembling  with 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  353 

agony  and  love:  "  Geraldine,  have  pity  on  me!  Tell  me 
that  this  is  no  dream,  that  I  am  not  mad — that  you  are 
really — you  are  Geraldine — you — the  king's  consort,  whose 
knees  I  now  clasp!  Speak,  oh  speak,  my  Geraldine!  " 

"I  am  she!"  softly  whispered  she.  "I  am  Geraldine 
— am  the  woman  whom  you  love,  and  to  whom  you  have 
sworn  eternal  truth  and  eternal  love!  Henry  Howard,  my 
beloved,  I  now  remind  you  of  your  oath!  Your  life  be- 
longs to  me.  This  you  have  vowed,  and  I  now  come  to 
demand  of  you  that  which  is  my  own! " 

"  Ay,  my  life  belongs  to  you,  Geraldine !  But  it  is  a 
miserable,  melancholy  possession,  which  you  will  call  yours 
only  a  few  hours  longer." 

She  threw  her  arms  closely  around  his  neck;  she  raised 
him  to  her  heart;  she  kissed  his  mouth,  his  eyes.  He  felt 
her  tears,  which  trickled  like  hot  fountains  over  his  face; 
he  heard  her  sighs,  which  struggled  from  her  breast  like 
death-groans. 

"You  must  not  die!"  murmured  she,  amid  her  tears. 
"  No,  Henry,  you  must  live,  so  that  I  too  can  live;  so  that  I 
shall  not  become  mad  from  agony  and  sorrow  for  you!  My 
God,  my  God,  do  you  not  then  feel  how  I  love  you?  Know 
you  not,  then,  that  your  life  is  my  life,  and  your  death  my 
death?  " 

He  leaned  his  head  on  her  shoulder,  and,  wholly  intoxi- 
cated with  happiness,  he  scarcely  heard  what  she  was 
speaking. 

She  was  again  there!     What  cared  he  for  all  the  rest? 

"  Geraldine,"  softly  whispered  he,  "  do  you  recollect 
still  how  we  first  met  each  other?  how  our  hearts  were 
united  in  one  throb,  how  our  lips  clung  to  each  other  in 
one  kiss?  Geraldine,  my  life,  my  loved  one,  we  then 
swore  that  naught  could  separate  us,  that  our  love  should 
survive  the  grave!  Geraldine,  do  you  remember  that 
still?" 

"I  remember  it,  my  Henry!  But  you  shall  not  die 
yet;  and  not  in  death,  but  in  life,  shall  your  love  for  me  be 


354  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

proved!  Ay,  we  will  live,  live!  And  your  life  shall  be  my 
life,  and  where  you  are,  there  will  I  be  also!  Henry,  do 
you  remember  that  you  vowed  this  to  me  with  a  solemn 
oath! " 

"  I  remember  it,  but  I  cannot  keep  my  word,  my  Geral- 
dine!  Hear  you  how  they  are  sawing  and  hammering 
there  below?  Know  you  what  that  indicates,  dearest?" 

"  I  know  it,  Henry!  It  is  the  scaffold  that  they  are 
building  there  below.  The  scaffold  for  you  and  me.  For 
I  too  will  die  if  you  will  not  live;  and  the  axe  that  seeks 
your  neck  shall  find  mine  also,  if  you  wish  not  that  we  both 
live!" 

"  Do  I  wish  it!     But  how  can  we,  beloved?  " 

"  We  can,  Henry,  we  can!  All  is  ready  for  the  flight! 
It  is  all  arranged,  everything  prepared!  The  king's 
signet-ring  has  opened  to  me  the  gates  of  the  prison;  the 
omnipotence  of  gold  has  won  over  your  jailer.  He  will 
not  see  it,  when  two  persons  instead  of  one  leave  this 
dungeon.  Unmolested  and  without  hinderance,  we  will 
both  leave  the  Tower  by  ways  known  only  to  him,  over 
secret  corridors  and  staircases,  and  will  go  aboard  a  boat 
which  is  ready  to  take  us  to  a  ship,  which  lies  in  the 
harbor  prepared  to  sail,  and  which  as  soon  as  we  are 
aboard  weighs  anchor  and  puts  to  sea  with  us.  Come, 
Henry,  come!  Lay  your  arm  in  mine,  and  let  us  leave  this 
prison! " 

She  threw  both  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  drew 
him  forward.  He  pressed  her  fast  to  his  heart  and  whis- 
pered: "Yes,  come,  come,  my  beloved!  Let  us  fly!  To 
you  belongs  my  life,  you  alone! " 

He  raised  her  up  in  his  arms,  and  hastened  with  her  to 
the  door.  He  pushed  it  hastily  open  with  his  foot  and 
hurried  forward  down  the  corridor;  but  having  arrived 
just  at  the  first  tiirn  he  reeled  back  in  horror. 

Before  the  door  were  standing  soldiers  with  shouldered 
arms.  There  stood  also  the  lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  and 
two  servants  behind  him  with  lighted  candles. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  355 

Geraldine  gave  a  scream,  and  with  anxious  haste  re- 
arranged the  thick  veil  that  had  slipped  from  her  head. 

Henry  Howard  also  had  uttered  a  cry,  but  not  on' ac- 
count of  the  soldiers  and  the  frustrated  flight. 

His  eyes,  stretched  wide  open,  stared  at  this  figure  at 
his  side,  now  so  closely  veiled. 

It  seemed  to  him  as  though  like  a  spectre  a  strange 
face  had  risen  up  close  by  him — as  though  it  were  not  the 
beloved  head  of  the  queen  that  rested  there  on  his  shoul- 
der. He  had  seen  this  face  only  as  a  vision,  as  the  fantasy 
of  a  dream;  but  he  knew  with  perfect  certainty  that  it  was 
not  her  countenance,  not  the  countenance  of  his  Geraldine. 

The  lieutenant  of  the  Tower  motioned  to  his  servants, 
and  they  carried  the  lighted  candles  into  the  earl's  cell. 

Then  he  gave  Henry  Howard  his  hand  and  silently  led 
him  back  into  the  prison. 

Henry  Howard  exhibited  no  reluctance  to  follow  him; 
but  his  hand  had  seized  Geraldine's  arm,  and  he  drew  her 
along  with  him;  his  eye  rested  on  her  with  a  penetrating 
expression,  and  seemed  to  threaten  her. 

They  were  now  again  in  the  room  which  they  had  be- 
fore left  with  such  blessed  hopes. 

The  lieutenant  of  the  Tower  motioned  to  the  servants 
to  retire,  then  turned  with  solemn  earnestness  to  Earl 
Surrey. 

"  My  lord,"  said  he,  "  it  is  at  the  king's  command  that 
I  bring  you  these  lights.  His  majesty  knows  all  that  has 
happened  here  this  night.  He  knew  that  a  plot  was 
formed  to  rescue  you;  and  while  they  believed  they  were 
deceiving  him,  the  plotters  themselves  were  deceived. 
They  had  succeeded  under  various  artful  false  pretences  in 
influencing  the  king  to  give  his  signet-ring  to  one  of  his 
lords.  But  his  majesty  was  already  warned,  and  he  al- 
ready knew  that  it  was  not  a  man,  as  they  wanted  to  make 
him  believe,  but  a  woman,  who  came,  not  to  take  leave  of 
you,  but  to  deliver  you  from  prison. — My  lady,  the  jailer 
whom  you  imagined  that  you  had  bribed  was  a  faithful 


356  HENRY    Vin.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

sen-ant  of  the  king.  He  betrayed  your  plot  to  me;  and  it 
was  I  who  ordered  him  to  make  a  show  of  favoring  your 
deed.  You  will  not  be  able  to  release  Earl  Surrey;  but  if 
such  is  your  command,  I  will  myself  see  you  to  the  ship 
that  lies  in  the  harbor  for  you  ready  to  sail.  No  one  will 
hinder  you,  my  lady,  from  embarking  on  it;  Earl  Surrey  is 
not  permitted  to  accompany  you! — My  lord,  soon  the  night 
is  at  an  end,  and  you  know  that  it  will  be  your  last  night. 
The  king  has  ordered  that  I  am  not  to  prevent  this  lady,  if 
she  wishes  to  spend  this  night  with  you  in  your  room. 
But  she  is  allowed  to  do  so  only  on  the  condition  that  the 
lights  in  your  room  remain  burning.  That  is  the  king's 
express  will,  and  these  are  his  own  words:  '  Tell  Earl  Sur- 
rey that  I  allow  him  to  love  his  Geraldine,  but  that  he  is 
to  open  his  eyes  to  see  her!  That  he  may  see,  you  will 
give  him  a  light;  and  I  command  him  not  to  extinguish  it 
so  long  as  Geraldine  is  with  him.  Otherwise  he  may  con- 
found her  with  another  woman;  for  in  the  dark  one  cannot 
distinguish  even  a  harlequin  from  a  queen! ' — You  have 
now  to  decide,  my  lord,  whether  this  lady  remains  with 
you,  or  whether  she  goes,  and  the  light  shall  be  put  out! " 

"  She  shall  remain  with  me,  and  I  very  much  need  the 
light! "  said  Earl  Surrey;  and  his  penetrating  look  rested 
steadily  on  the  veiled  figure,  which  shook  at  his  words,  as 
if  in  an  ague. 

"  Have  you  any  other  wish  besides  this,  my  lord?  " 

"  None,  save  that  I  may  be  left  alone  with  her." 

The  lieutenant  bowed  and  left  the  room. 

They  were  now  alone  again,  and  stood  confronting  each 
other  in  silence.  Naught  was  heard  but  the  beating  of 
their  hearts,  and  the  sighs  of  anguish  that  burst  from  Ger- 
aldine's  trembling  lips. 

It  was  an  awful,  a  terrible  pause.  Geraldine  would 
gladly  have  given  her  life  could  she  thereby  have  extin- 
guished the  light  and  veiled  herself  in  impenetrable  dark- 
ness. 

But  the  earl  would  see.    With  an  angry,  haughty 


HENRY  VIII.   AND  HIS  COURT.  357 

he  stepped  up  to  her,  and,  as  with  commanding  gesture  lie- 
raised  his  arm,  Geraldine  shuddered  and  submissively 
bowed  her  head. 

"  Unveil  your  face !  "  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  command. 

She  did  not  stir.  She  murmured  a  prayer,  then  raised 
her  clasped  hands  to  Henry  and  in  a  low  moan,  said: 
"  Mercy!  mercy! " 

He  extended  his  hand  and  seized  the  veil. 

"Mercy!  "  repeated  she,  i«  a  voice  of  still  deeper  sup- 
plication— of  still  greater  distress. 

But  he  was  inexorable.  He  tore  the  veil  from  her  face 
and  stared  at  her.  Then  with  a  wild  shriek  he  reeled 
back  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

Jane  Douglas  durst  not  breathe  or  stir.  She  was  pale 
as  marble;  her  large,  burning  eyes  were  fastened  witli  an 
unutterable  expression  of  entreaty  upon  her  lover,  who 
stood  before  her  with  covered  head,  and  crushed  with 
anguish.  She  loved  him  more  than  her  life,  more  than 
her  eternal  salvation;  and  yet  she  it  was  that  had  brought 
him  to  this  hour  of  agony. 

At  length  Earl  Surrey  let  his  hands  fall  from  his  face, 
and  with  a  fierce  movement  dashed  the  tears  from  his  eyes. 

As  he  looked  at  her,  Jane  Douglas  wholly  involuntarily 
sank  upon  her  knees,  and  raised  her  hands  imploringly  to 
him.  "  Henry  Howard,"  said  she,  in  a  low  whisper,  "  I 
am  Geraldine !  Me  have  you  loved ;  my  letters  have  you 
read  with  ecstasy,  and  to  me  have  you  often  sworn  that 
you  loved  my  mind  yet  more  than  my  appearance.  And 
often  has  my  heart  been  filled  with  rapture,  when  you  told 
me  you  would  love  me  however  my  face  might  change,  how- 
ever old  age  or  sickness  might  alter  my  features.  You 
remember,  Henry,  how  I  once  asked  you  whether  you 
would  cease  to  love  me,  if  now  God  suddenly  put  a  mask 
before  my  face,  so  that  you  could  not  recognize  my  fea- 
tures. You  replied  to  me:  'Nevertheless,  I  should  love 
and  adore  you;  for  what  in  you  ravishes  me,  is  not  your 
face,  but  you  yourself — yourself  with  your  glorious  being 


358  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

and  nature.  It  is  your  soul  and  your  heart  which  can 
never  change,  which  lie  before  me  like  a  holy  book,  clear 
and  bright! '  That  was  your  reply  to  me  then,  as  you 
swore  to  love  me  eternally.  Henry  Howard,  I  now  remind 
you  of  your  oath!  I  am  your  Geraldine.  It  is  the  same 
soul,  the  same  heart;  only  God  has  put  a  mask  upon  my 
face!" 

Earl  Surrey  had  listened  to  her  with  eager  attention, 
with  increasing  amazement. 

"It  is  she!  It  is  really!  "  cried  he,  as  she  ceased.  "It 
is  Geraldine! " 

And  wholly  overcome,  wholly  speechless  with  anguish, 
he  sank  into  a  seat. 

Geraldine  flew  to  him;  she  crouched  at  his  feet;  she 
seized  his  drooping  hand  and  covered  it  with  kisses.  And 
amid  streaming  tears,  often  interrupted  by  her  sighs  and 
her  sobs,  she  recounted  to  him  the  sad  and  unhappy  his' 
tory  of  her  love;  she  unveiled  before  him  the  whole  web 
of  cunning  and  deceit,  that  her  father  had  drawn  around 
them  both.  She  laid  her  whole  heart  open  and  unveiled 
before  him.  "  She  told  him  of  her  love,  of  her  agonies,  of 
her  ambition,  and  her  remorse.  She  accused  herself;  but 
she  pleaded  her  love  as  an  excuse,  and  with  streaming 
tears,  clinging  to  his  knees,  she  implored  him  for  pity,  for 
forgiveness. 

He  thrust  her  violently  from  him,  and  stood  up  in 
order  to  escape  her  touch.  His  noble  countenance  glowed 
with  anger;  his  eyes  darted  lightning;  his  long  flowing 
hair  shaded  his  lofty  brow  and  his  face  like  a  sombre  veil. 
He  was  beautiful  in  his  wrath,  beautiful  as  the  archangel 
Michael  trampling  the  dragon  beneath  his  feet.  And 
thus  he  bent  down  his  head  toward  her;  thus  he  gazed  at 
her  with  flashing  and  contemptuous  looks. 

"  I  forgive  you?  "  said  he.  "  Never  will  that  be!  Ha, 
shall  I  forgive  you? — you,  who  have  made  my  entire  life  a 
ridiculous  lie,  and  transformed  the  tragedy  of  my  love  into 
a  disgusting  farce?  Oh,  Geraldine,  how  I  have  loved  you; 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  359 

and  now  you  have  become  to  me  a  loathsome  spectre, 
before  which  my  soul  shudders,  and  which  I  must  execrate! 
You  have  crushed  my  life,  and  even  robbed  my  death  of  its 
sanctity;  for  now  it  is  no  longer  the  martyrdom  of  my  love, 
but  only  the  savage  mockery  of  my  credulous  heart.  Oh, 
Geraldine,  how  beautiful  it  would  have  been  to  die  for 
you! — to  go  to  death  with  your  name  upon  my  lips! — to 
bless  you! — to  thank  you  for  my  happy  lot,  as  the  axe  was 
already  uplifted  to  smite  off  my  head!  How  beautiful  to 
think  that  death  does  not  separate  us,  but  is  only  the  way 
to  an  eternal  union;  that  we  should  lose  each  other  but  a 
brief  moment  here,  to  find  each  other  again  f orevermore !  " 

Geraldine  writhed  at  his  feet  like  a  worm  trodden 
upon;  and  her  groans  of  distress  and  her  smothered  moans 
were  the  heartrending  accompaniment  of  his  melancholy 
words. 

"  But  that  is  now  all  over!  "  cried  Henry  Howard;  and 
his  face,  which  was  before  convulsed  with  grief  and  agony, 
now  glowed  again  with  wrath.  "  You  have  poisoned  my 
life  and  my  death;  and  I  shall  curse  you  for  it,  and  my 
last  word  will  be  a  malediction  on  the  harlequin  Geral- 
dine!" 

"  Have  pity! "  groaned  Jane.  "  Kill  me,  Henry; 
stamp  my  head  beneath  your  feet;  only  let  this  torture 
end!" 

"Nay,  no  pity!"  yelled  he,  wildly;  "no  pity  for  this 
impostor,  who  has  stolen  my  heart  and  crept  like  a  thief 
into  my  love!  Arise,  and  leave  this  room;  for  you  fill  me 
with  horror;  and  when  I  behold  you,  I  feel  only  that  I 
must  curse  you!  Ay,  a  curse  on  you  and  shame,  Geraldine! 
Curse  on  the  kisses  that  I  have  impressed  on  your  lips — on 
the  tears  of  rapture  that  I  have  wept  on  your  bosom. 
When  I  ascend  the  scaffold,  I  will  curse  you,  and  my  last 
words  shall  be:  'Woe  to  Geraldine! — for  she  is  my  mur- 
deress! ' 3 

He  stood  there  before  her  with  arm  raised  on  high, 
proud  and  great  in  his  wrath.  She  felt  the  destroying 


860  HENRY    Vin.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

lightning  of  his  eyes,  though  she  durst  not  look  up  at 
him,  but  lay  at  his  feet  moaning  and  convulsed,  and  con- 
cealing her  face  in  her  veil,  as  she  shuddered  at  her  own 
picture. 

"  And  this  be  my  last  word  to  you  Geraldine,"  said 
Henry  Howard,  panting  for  breath:  "  Go  hence  under  the 
burden  of  my  curse,  and  live — if  you  can!  " 

She  unveiled  her  head,  and  raised  her  countenance 
toward  him.  A  contemptuous  smile  writhed  about  her 
deathly  pale  lips.  "Live!"  said  she.  "Have  we  not 
sworn  to  die  with  each  other?  Your  curse  does  not  release 
me  from  my  oath,  and  when  you  descend  into  the  grave, 
Jane  Douglas  will  stand  upon  its  brink,  to  wail  and  weep 
until  you  make  a  little  place  for  her  there  below;  until 
she  has  softened  your  heart  and  you  take  her  again,  as 
your  Geraldine,  into  your  grave.  Oh,  Henry!  in  the 
grave,  I  no  longer  wear  the  face  of  Jane  Douglas — that 
hated  face,  which  I  would  tear  with  my  nails.  In  the 
grave,  I  am  Geraldine  again.  There  I  may  again  lie  close 
to  your  heart,  and  again  you  will  say  to  me:  'I  love  not 
your  face  and  your  external  form!  I  love  you  yourself;  I 
love  your  heart  and  mind;  and  that  can  never  change;  and 
can  never  be  otherwise! ' ' 

"Silence!"  said  he,  roughly;  "silence,  if  you  do  not 
want  me  to  run  mad!  Cast  not  my  own  words  in  my  face. 
They  defile  me,  for  falsehood  has  desecrated  and  trodden 
them  in  the  mire.  No!  I  will  not  make  room  for  you  in 
my  grave.  I  will  not  again  call  you  Geraldine.  You  are 
Jane  Douglas,  and  I  hate  you,  and  I  hurl  my  curse  upon 
your  criminal  head!  I  tell  you " 

He  suddenly  paused,  and  a  slight  convulsion  ran 
through  his  whole  frame. 

Jane  Douglas  uttered  a  piercing  scream,  and  sprang 
from  her  knees. 

Day  had  broken;  and  from  the  prison-tower  sounded 
the  dismal,  plaintive  stroke  of  the  death-bell. 

"  Do  you  hear,  Jane  Douglas?  "  said  Surrey.     "  That 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

bell  summons  me  to  death.  You  it  is  that  has  poisoned  my 
last  hour.  I  was  happy  when  I  loved  you.  I  die  in  de- 
spair, for  I  despise  and  hate  you/' 

"  No,  no,  you  dare  not  die !  "  cried  she,  clinging  to  him 
with  passionate  anguish.  "  You  dare  not  go  to  the  grave 
with  that  fierce  curse  upon  your  lips.  I  cannot  he  your 
murderess.  Oh,  it  is  not  possible  that  they  will  put  you 
to  death — you,  the  beautiful,  the  noble  and  the  virtuous 
Earl  Surrey.  My  God,  what  have  you  done  to  excite  their 
wrath?  You  are  innocent;  and  they  know  it.  They  can- 
not execute  you;  for  it  would  be  murder!  You  have  com- 
mitted no  offence;  you  have  been  guilty  of  nothing;  no 
crime  attaches  to  your  noble  person.  It  is  indeed  no 
crime  to  love  Jane  Douglas,  and  me  have  you  loved — me 
alone." 

"No,  not  you,"  said  he  proudly;  "I  have  nothing  to 
do  with  Lady  Jane  Douglas.  I  loved  the  queen,  and  I  be- 
lieved she  returned  my  love.  That  is  my  crime." 

The  door  opened;  and  in  solemn  silence  the  lieutenant 
of  the  Tower  entered  with  the  priests  and  his  assistants. 
In  the  door  was  seen  the  bright-red  dress  of  the  headsman, 
who  was  standing  upon  the  threshold  with  face  calm  and 
unmoved. 

"  It  is  time!  "  solemnly  said  the  lieutenant. 

The  priest  muttered  his  prayers,  and  the  assistants 
swung  their  censers.  Without,  the  death-bell  kept  up  its 
wail;  and  from  the  court  was  heard  the  hum  of  the 
mob,  which,  curious  and  bloodthirsty  as  it  ever  is,  had 
streamed  hither  to  behold  with  laughing  mouth  the  blood 
of  the  man  who  but  yesterday  was  its  favorite. 

Earl  Surrey  stood  there  a  moment  in  silence.  His 
features  worked  and  were  convulsed,  and  a  deathlike  pal- 
lor covered  his  cheeks. 

He  trembled,  not  at  death,  but  at  dying.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  he  already  felt  on  his  neck  the  cold  broad-axe 
which  that  frightful  man  there  held  in  his  hand.  Oh,  to 

die  on  the  battle-field — what  a  boon  it  would  have  been! 
24 


HENRY   VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

To  come  to  an  end  on  the  scaffold — what  a  disgrace  was 
this! 

"Henry  Howard,  my  son,  are  you  prepared  to  die?" 
asked  the  priest.  "  Have  you  made  your  peace  with  God? 
Do  you  repent  of  your  sins,  and  do  you  acknowledge  death 
as  a  righteous  expiation  and  punishment?  Do  you  for- 
give your  enemies,  and  depart  hence  at  peace  with  yourself 
and  with  mankind?" 

"  I  am  prepared  to  die,"  said  Surrey,  with  a  proud 
smile;  "  the  other  questions,  my  father,  I  will  answer  to 
my  God." 

"  Do  you  confess  that  you  were  a  wicked  traitor?  And 
do  you  beg  the  forgiveness  of  your  noble  and  righteous, 
your  exalted  and  good  king,  for  the  blasphemous  injury 
to  his  sacred  majesty?  " 

Earl  Surrey  looked  him  steadily  in  the  eye.  "  Do  you 
know  what  crime  I  am  accused  of?  " 

The  priest  cast  down  his  eyes,  and  muttered  a  few  un- 
intelligible words. 

With  a  haughty  movement  of  the  head,  Henry  Howard 
turned  from  the  priest  to  the  lieutenant  of  the  Tower. 

"  Do  you  know  my  crime,  my  lord  ?  "  said  he. 

But  the  lord  lieutenant  also  dropped  his  eyes,  and 
remained  silent. 

Henry  Howard  smiled.  "  Well,  now,  I  will  tell  you.  I 
have,  as  it  becomes  me,  my  father's  son,  borne  the  arms  of 
our  house  on  my  shield  and  over  the  entrance  of  my  palace, 
and  it  has  been  discovered  that  the  king  bears  the  same 
arms  that  we  do.  That  is  my  high  treason!  I  have  said  that 
the  king  is  deceived  in  many  of  his  servants,  and  often 
promotes  his  favorites  to  high  honors  which  they  do  not 
deserve.  That  is  my  offence  against  his  majesty;  and  it  is 
that  for  which  I  shall  lay  my  head  upon  the  block.*  But 

*  These  two  insignificant  accusations  were  the  only  points  that 
could  be  made  out  against  the  Earl  of  Surrey.  Upon  these  charges, 
brought  by  his  mother  and  sister,  he  was  executed. — Tytler,  p.  492; 
Burnet,  vol.  i,  p.  75;  Leti,  vol.  i,  p.  108. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COUET.  363 

make  yourself  easy;  I  shall  myself  add  to  my  crimes  one 
more,  so  that  they  may  be  grievous  enough  to  make  the 
conscience  of  the  righteous  and  generous  king  quiet.  I 
have  given  up  my  heart  to  a  wretched  and  criminal  love, 
and  the  Geraldine  whom  I  have  sung  in  many  a  poem,  and 
have  celebrated  even  before  the  king,  was  nothing  but  a 
miserable  coquettish  strumpet  I" 

Jane  Douglas  gave  a  scream,  and  sank  upon  the  ground 
as  if  struck  by  lightning. 

"  Do  you  repent  of  this  sin,  my  son? "  asked  the 
priest.  "Do  you  turn  your  heart  away  from  this  sinful 
love,  in  order  to  turn  it  to  God?  " 

"I  not  only  repent  of  this  love,  but  I  execrate  it!  and 
now,  my  father,  let  us  go;  for  you  see,  indeed,  my  lord 
is  becoming  impatient.  He  bears  in  mind  that  the  king 
will  find  no  rest  until  the  Howards  also  have  gone  to  rest. 
Ah,  King  Henry!  King  Henry!  Thoji  callest  thyself  the 
mighty  king  of  the  world,  and  yet  thou  tremblest  before 
the  arms  of  thy  subject!  My  lord,  if  you  go  to  the  king 
to-day,  give  him  Henry  Howard's  greeting;  and  tell  him,  I 
wish  his  bed  may  be  as  easy  to  him  as  the  grave  will  be  to 
me.  Now,  come,  my  lords!  It  is  time." 

With  head  proudly  erect  and  calm  step,  he  turned  to 
the  door.  But  now  Jane  Douglas  sprang  from  the  ground; 
now  she  rushed  to  Henry  Howard  and  clung  to  him  with 
all  the  might  of  her  passion  and  agony.  "  I  leave  you 
not!  "  cried  she,  breathless  and  pale  as  death.  "  You  dare 
not  repulse  me,  for  you  have  sworn  that  we  shall  live  and 
die  together." 

He  hurled  her  from  him  in  fierce  wrath,  and  drew  him- 
self up  before  her,  lofty  and  threatening. 

"I  forbid  you  to  follow  me!"  cried  he,  in  a  tone  of 
command.  She  reeled  back  against  the  wall  and  looked 
at  him,  trembling  and  breathless. 

He  was  still  lord  over  her  soul;  she  was  still  subject  to 
him  in  love  and  obedience.  She  could  not  therefore  sum- 
mon up  courage  to  defy  his  command. 


364:  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COUET. 

She  beheld  him  as  he  left  the  room  and  passed  down 
the  corridor  with  his  dreadful  train;  she  heard  their  foot- 
steps gradually  die  away;  and  then  suddenly  in  the  yard 
sounded  the  hollow  roll  of  the  drum. 

Jane  Douglas  fell  on  her  knees  to  pray,  but  her  lips 
trembled  so  much  that  she  could  find  no  words  for  her 
prayer. 

The  roll  of  the  drum  ceased  in  the  court  below,  and 
only  the  death-bell  still  continued  to  wail  and  wail.  She 
heard  a  voice  speaking  loud  and  powerful  words. 

It  was  his  voice;  it  was  Henry  Howard  that  was  speak- 
ing. And  now  again  the  hollow  roll  of  the  drums  drowned 
his  voice. 

"  He  dies!  He  dies,  and  I  am  not  with  him! "  cried 
she,  with  a  shriek;  and  she  gathered  herself  up,  and  as  if 
borne  by  a  whirlwind  she  dashed  out  of  the  room,  through 
the  corridor,  and  down  the  stairs. 

There  she  stood  in  the  court.  That  dreadful  black 
pile  above  there,  in  the  midst  of  this  square  crowded  with 
men — that  was  the  scaffold.  Yonder  she  beheld  him 
prostrate  on  his  knees.  She  beheld  the  axe  in  the  heads- 
man's hand;  she  saw  him  raise  it  for  the  fatal  stroke. 

She  was  a  woman  no  longer,  but  a  lioness!  Not  a  drop 
of  blood  was  in  her  cheeks.  Her  nostrils  were  expanded 
and  her  eyes  darted  lightning. 

She  drew  out  a  dagger  that  she  had  concealed  in  her 
bosom,  and  made  a  path  through  the  amazed,  frightened, 
yielding  crowd. 

With  one  spring  she  had  rushed  up  the  steps  of  the 
scaffold.  She  now  stood  by  him  on  the  top  of  it — close  by 
that  kneeling  figure. 

There  was  a  flash  through  the  air.  She  heard  a  pecul- 
iar whiz — then  a  hollow  blow.  A  red  vapor-like  streak 
of  blood  spurted  up,  and  covered  Jane  Douglas  with  its 
crimson  flood. 

"I  come,  Henry,  I  come!"  cried  she,  with  a  wild 
shout.  "  I  shall  be  with  thee  in  death! " 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  HENRY  HOWARD. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  365 

And  again  there  was  a  flash  through  the  air.  It  was 
the  dagger  that  Jane  Douglas  plunged  into  her  heart. 

She  had  struck  well.  No  sound — no  groan  burst  from 
her  lips.  With  a  proud  smile  she  sank  by  her  lover's  head- 
less corpse,  and  with  a  last  dying  effort  she  said  to  the 
horrified  headsman:  "Let  me  share  his  grave!  Henry 
Howard,  in  life  and  in  death  I  am  with  thee! " 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

NEW   INTRIGUES. 

HENRY  HOWARD  was  dead;  and  now  one  would  have 
thought  the  king  might!  be  satisfied  and  quiet,  and  that 
sleep  would  no  longer  flee  from  his  eyelids,  since  Henry 
Howard,  his  great  rival,  had  closed  his  eyes  forever;  since 
Henry  Howard  was  no  longer  there,  to  steal  away  his 
crown,  to  fill  the  world  with  the  glory  of  his  deeds,  to  dim 
the  genius  of  the  king  by  his  own  fame  as  a  poet. 

But  the  king  was  still  dissatisfied.  Sleep  still  fled 
from  his  couch. 

The  cause  of  this  was  that  his  work  was  only  just  half 
done.  Henry  Howard's  father,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  still 
lived.  The  cause  of  this  was,  that  the  king  was  alway? 
obliged  to  think  of  this  powerful  rival;  and  these  thoughts 
chased  sleep  from  his  eyelids.  His  soul  was  sick  of  the 
Howards;  therefore  his  body  suffered  such  terrible  pains. 

If  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  would  close  his  eyes  in  death, 
then  would  the  king  also  be  able  to  close  his  again  in 
refreshing  sleep!  But  this  court  of  peers — and  only  by 
such  a  court  could  the  duke  be  judged — this  court  of  peers 
was  so  slow  and  deliberate!  It  worked  far  less  rapidly, 
and  was  not  near  so  serviceable,  as  the  Parliament  which 
had  so  quickly  condemned  Henry  Howard.  Why  must  the 


366  HENRY    Vm.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

old  Howard  bear  a  ducal  title?  Why  was  he  not  like  his 
son,  only  an  earl,  so  that  the  obedient  Parliament  might 
condemn  him? 

That  was  the  king's  inextinguishable  grief,  his  gnaw- 
ing pain,  which  made  him  raving  with  fury  and  heated  his 
blood,  and  thereby  increased  the  pains  of  his  body. 

He  raved  and  roared  .with  impatience.  Through  the 
halls  of  his  palace  resounded  his  savage  vituperation.  It 
made  every  one  tremble  and  quake,  for  no  one  was  sure 
that  it  was  not  he  that  was  to  fall  that  day  a  victim  to  the 
king's  fury.  No  one  could  know  whether  the  king's  ever- 
increasing  thirst  for  blood  would  not  that  day  doom  him. 

With  the  most  jealous  strictness  the  king,  from  his 
sick-couch,  watched  over  his  royal  dignity;  and  the  least 
fault  against  that  might  arouse  his  wrath  and  bloodthirsti- 
ness.  Woe  to  those  who  wanted  still  to  maintain  that  the 
pope  was  the  head  of  the  Church !  Woe  to  those  who  ven- 
tured to  call  God  the  only  Lord  of  the  Church,  and  hon- 
ored not  the  king  as  the  Church's  holy  protector!  The 
one,  like  the  other,  were  traitors  and  sinners,  and  he  had 
Protestants  and  Roman  Catholics  alike  executed,  however 
near  they  stood  to  his  own  person,  and  however  closely  he 
was  otherwise  bound  to  them. 

Whoever,  therefore,  could  avoid  it,  kept  himself  far 
from  the  dreaded  person  of  the  king;  and  whoever  was 
constrained  by  duty  to  be  near  him,  trembled  for  his  life, 
and  commended  his  soul  to  God. 

There  were  only  four  persons  who  did  not  fear  the 
king,  and  who  seemed  to  be  safe  from  his  destroying  wrath. 
There  was  the  queen,  who  nursed  him  with  devoted  atten- 
tion, and  John  Heywood,  who  with  untiring  zeal  sus- 
tained Catharine  in  her  difficult  task,  and  who  still  some- 
times succeeded  in  winning  a  smile  from  the  king.  There 
were,  furthermore,  Gardiner,  bishop  of  Winchester,  and 
Earl  Douglas. 

Lady  Jane  Douglas  was  dead.  The  king  had  therefore 
forgiven  her  father,  and  again  shown  himself  gracious  and 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  357- 

friendly  to  the  deeply-bowed  earl.  Besides,  it  was  such  an 
agreeable  and  refreshing  feeling  to  the  suffering  king  to 
have  some  one  about  him  who  suffered  yet  more  than  he 
himself!  It  comforted  him  to  know  that  there  could  be 
agonies  yet  more  horrible  than  those  pains  of  the  body 
under  which  he  languished.  Earl  Douglas  suffered  these 
agonies;  and  the  king  saw  with  a  kind  of  delight  how  his 
hair  turned  daily  more  gray,  and  his  features  became  more 
relaxed  and  feeble.  Douglas  was  younger  than  the  king, 
and  yet  how  old  and  gray  his  face  was  beside  the  king's 
well-fed  and  blooming  countenance! 

Could  the  king  have  seen  the  bottom  of  his  soul,  he 
would  have  had  less  sympathy  with  Earl  Douglas's  sorrow. 

He  considered  him  only  as  a  tender  father  mourning 
the  death  of  his  only  child.  He  did  not  suspect  that  it  was 
less  the  father  that  Jane's  painful  death  had  smitten,  than 
the  ambitious  man,  the  fanatical  Roman  Catholic,  the  en- 
thusiastic disciple  of  Loyola,  who  with  dismay  saw  all  his 
plans  frustrated,  and  the  moment  drawing  nigh  when  he 
would  be  divested  of  that  power  and  consideration  which 
he  enjoyed  in  the  secret  league  of  the  disciples  of  Jesus. 

With  him,  therefore,  it  was  less  the  daughter,  for  whom 
he  mourned,  than  the  king's  seventh  wife.  And  that  Catha- 
rine wore  the  crown,  and  not  his  daughter — not  Jane 
Douglas — this  it  was  that  he  could  never  forgive  the 
queen. 

He  wanted  to  take  vengeance  on  the  queen  for  Jane's 
death;  he  wanted  to  punish  Catharine  for  his  frustrated 
hopes,  for  his  desires  that  she  had  trampled  upon. 

But  Earl  Douglas  durst  not  himself  venture  to  make 
another  attempt  to  prejudice  the  king's  mind  against  his 
consort.  Henry  had  interdicted  him  from  it  under  the 
penalty  of  his  wrath.  With  words  of  threatening,  he  had 
warned  him  from  such  an  attempt;  and  Earl  Douglas  very 
well  knew  that  King  Henry  was  inflexible  in  his  deter- 
mination, when  the  matter  under  consideration  was  the 
execution  of  a  threatened  punishment. 


tlENKY    VUI.    AND    HIS    COUKT. 

Yet  what  Douglas  durst  not  venture,  that  Gardiner 
could  venture — Gardiner,  who,  thanks  to  the  capricious- 
ness  of  the  sick  king,  had  for  the  few  days  past  enjoyed 
again  the  royal  favor  so  unreservedly  that  the  noble  Arch- 
bishop Cranmer  had  received  orders  to  leave  the  court  and 
retire  to  his  episcopal  residence  at  Lambeth. 

Catharine  had  seen  him  depart  with  anxious  forebod- 
ings; for  Craumer  had  ever  been  her  friend  and  her  sup- 
port. His  mild  and  serene  countenance  had  ever  been  to 
her  like  a  star  of  peace  in  the  midst  of  this  tempest-tossed 
and  passion-lashed  court  life;  and  his  gentle  and  noble 
words  had  always  fallen  like  a  soothing  balm  on  her  poor 
trembling  heart. 

She  felt  that  with  his  departure  she  lost  her  noblest 
support,  her  strengthening  aid,  and  that  she  was  now  sur- 
rounded only  by  enemies  and  opponents.  True,  she  still 
had  John  Heywood,  the  faithful  friend,  the  indefatigable 
servant;  but  since  Gardiner  had  exercised  his  sinister  in- 
fluence over  the  king's  mind,  John  Heywood  durst  scarcely 
risk  himself  in  Henry's  presence.  True,  she  had  also 
Thomas  Seymour,  her  lover;  but  she  knew  and  felt 
that  she  was  everywhere  surrounded  by  spies  and  eaves- 
droppers, and  that  now  it  required  nothing  more  than 
an  interview  with  Thomas  Seymour — a  few  tender  words 
— perchance  even  only  a  look  full  of  mutual  under- 
standing and  love,  in  order  to  send  him  and  her  to  the 
scaffold. 

She  trembled  not  for  herself,  but  for  her  lover.  That 
made  her  cautious  and  thoughtful.  That  gave  her  cour- 
age never  to  show  Thomas  Seymour  other  than  a  cold, 
serious  face;  never  to  meet  him  otherwise  than  in  the 
circle  of  her  court;  never  to  smile  on  him;  never  to  give 
him  her  hand. 

She  was,  however,  certain  of  her  future.  She  knew 
that  a  day  would  come  on  which  the  king's  death  would 
deliver  her  from  her  burdensome  grandeur  and  her  painful 
royal  crown;  when  she  should  be  free — free  to  give  her 


HE.NRY    V1IL    AND   HIS    COURT. 

hand  to  the  man  whom  alone  on  earth,  she  loved,  and  to 
become  his  wife. 

She  waited  for  that  day,  as  the  prisoner  does  for  the 
hour  of  his  release;  but  like  him  she  knew  that  a  pre- 
mature attempt  to  escape  from  her  dungeon  would  bring 
her  only  ruin  and  death,  and  not  freedom. 

She  must  be  patient  and  wait.  She  must  give  up  all 
personal  intercourse  with  her  lover;  and  even  his  letters 
John  Heywood  could  bring  her  but  very  seldom,  and  only 
with  the  greatest  caution.  How  often  already  had  not 
John  Heywood  conjured  her  to  give  up  this  correspond- 
ence also!  how  often  had  he  not  with  tears  in  his  eyes  be- 
sought her  to  renounce  this  love,  which  might  one  day  be 
her  ruin  and  her  death!  Catharine  laughed  at  his  gloomy 
forebodings,  and  opposed  to  his  dark  prophecies  a  bravery 
reliant  on  the  future,  the  joyous  courage  of  her  love. 

She  would  not  die,  for  happiness  and  love  were  await- 
ing her;  she  would  not  renounce  happiness  and  love,  for 
the  sake  of  which  she  could  endure  this  life  in  other  re- 
spects— this  life  of  peril,  of  resignation,  of  enmity,  and  of 
hatred. 

But  she  wanted  to  live  in  order  to  be  happy  hereafter. 
This  thought  made  her  brave  and  resolute;  it  gave  her 
courage  to  defy  her  enemies  with  serene  brow  and  smiling 
lip;  it  enabled  her  to  sit  with  bright  eye  and  rosy  cheeks 
at  the  side  of  her  dreaded  and  severe  husband,  and,  with 
cheerful  wit  and  inexhaustible  good-humor,  jest  away  the 
frown  from  his  brow,  and  vexation  from  his  soul. 

But  just  because  she  could  do  this,  she  was  a  dangerous 
antagonist  to  Douglas  and  Gardiner.  Just  on  that  ac- 
count, it  was  to  be  their  highest  effort  to  destroy  this  beau- 
tiful young  woman,  who  durst  defy  them  and  weaken  their 
influence  with  the  king.  If  they  could  but  succeed  in  ren- 
dering the  king's  mind  more  and  more  gloomy;  if  they 
could  but  completely  fill  him  again  with  fanatical  religious 
zeal;  then,  and  then  only,  could  they  hope  to  attain  their 
end;  which  end  was  this:  to  bring  back  the  king  as  a  con- 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

trite,  penitent,  and  humble  son  of  the  only  saving  mother 
Church,  and  to  make  him  again,  from  a  proud,  vain,  and 
imperious  prince,  an  obedient  and  submissive  son  of  the 
pope. 

The  king  was  to  renounce  this  vain  and  blasphemous 
arrogance  of  wishing  to  be  himself  head  of  his  Church. 
He  was  to  turn  away  from  the  spirit  of  novelty  and  heresy, 
and  again  become  a  faithful  and  devout  Catholic. 

But  in  order  that  they  might  attain  this  end,  Catha- 
rine must  be  removed  from  him;  he  must  no  longer  behold 
her  rosy  and  beautiful  face,  and  no  longer  allow  himself  to 
be  diverted  by  her  sensible  discourse  and  her  keen  wit. 

"  We  shall  not  be  able  to  overthrow  the  queen,"  said 
Earl  Douglas  to  Gardiner,  as  the  two  stood  in  the  king's 
anteroom,  and  as  Catharine's  cheerful  chit-chat  and  the 
king's  merry  laugh  came  pealing  to  them  from  the  adjoin- 
ing room.  "  No,  no,  Gardiner,  she  is  too  powerful  and  too 
crafty.  The  king  loves  her  very  much;  and  she  is  such  an 
agreeable  and  refreshing  recreation  to  him." 

"  Just  on  that  account  we  must  withdraw  her  from 
him,"  said  Gardiner,  with  a  dark  frown.  "  He  must  turn 
away  his  heart  from  this  earthly  love;  and  after  we  shall 
have  mortified  this  love  in  him,  this  savage  and  arrogant 
man  will  return  to  us  and  to  God,  contrite  and  humble." 

But  we  shall  not  be  able  to  mortify  it,  friend.  It  is  so 
ardent  and  selfish  a  love." 

So  much  the  greater  will  be  the  triumph,  if  our  holy 
admonitions  are  successful  in  touching  his  heart,  Douglas. 
It  is  true  he  will  suffer  very  much  if  he  is  obliged  to  give 
up  this  woman.  But  he  needs  precisely  this  suffering  in 
order  to  become  contrite  and  penitent.  His  mind  must 
first  be  entirely  darkened,  so  that  we  can  illuminate  it  with 
the  light  of  faith.  He  must  first  be  rendered  perfectly 
isolated  and  comfortless  in  order  to  bring  him  back  to  the 
holy  communion  of  the  Church,  and  to  find  him  again 
accessible  to  the  consolations  of  that  faith  which  alone 
can  save." 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  37} 

"  Ah,"  sighed  Douglas,  "  I  fear  that  this  will  be  a  use- 
less struggle.  The  king  is  so  vain  of  his  self -constituted 
high-priesthood! " 

"But  he  is  such  a  weak  man,  and  such  a  great  sin- 
ner! "  said  Gardiner,  with  a  cold  smile.  "  He  trembles  so 
much  at  death  and  God's  judgment,  and  our  holy  mother 
the  Church  can  give  him  absolution,  and  by  her  holy  sacra- 
ments render  death  easy  to  him.  He  is  a  wicked  sinner 
and  has  stings  of  conscience.  This  it  is  that  will  bring 
him  back  again  to  the  bosom  of  the  Catholic  Church." 

"  But  when  will  that  come  to  pass?  The  king  is  sick, 
and  any  day  may  put  an  end  to  his  life.  Woe  to  us,  if  he 
die  before  he  has  given  the  power  into  our  hands,  and 
nominated  us  his  executors!  Woe  to  us,  if  the  queen  is 
appointed  regent,  and  the  king  selects  the  Seymours  as  her 
ministers!  Oh,  my  wise  and  pious  father,  the  work  that 
you  wish  to  do  must  be  done  soon,  or  it  must  remain  for- 
ever unaccomplished." 

"It  shall  be  done  this  very  day,"  said  Gardiner,  sol- 
emnly; and  bending  down  closer  to  the  earl's  ear,  he  con- 
tinued: "  we  have  lulled  the  queen  into  assurance  and  self- 
confidence,  and  by  this  means  she  shall  be  ruined  this  very 
day.  She  relies  so  strongly  on  her  power  over  the  king's 
disposition,  that  she  often  summons  up  courage  even  to 
contradict  him,  and  to  set  her  own  will  in  opposition  to 
his.  That  shall  be  her  ruin  this  very  'day!  For  mark 
well,  earl;  the  king  is  now  again  like  a  tiger  that  has  been 
long  fasting.  He  thirsts  for  blood!  The  queen  has  an 
aversion  to  human  blood,  and  she  is  horrified  when  she 
hears  of  executions.  So  we  must  manage  that  these  op- 
posing inclinations  may  come  into  contact,  and  contend 
with  each  other." 

"  Oh,  I  understand  now,"  whispered  Douglas;  "  and  I 
bow  in  reverence  before  the  wisdom  of  your  highness. 
You  will  let  them  both  contend  with  their  own  weapons." 

"I  will  point  out  a  welcome  prey  to  his  appetite  for 
blood,  and  give  her  silly  compassion  an  opportunity  to  con- 


372  HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

tend  with  the  king  for  his  prey.  Do  you  not  think,  earl, 
that  this  will  be  an  amusing  spectacle,  and  one  refreshing 
to  the  heart,  to  see  how  the  tiger  and  dove  struggle  with 
each  other?  And  I  tell  you  the  tiger  thirsts  so  much  for 
blood!  Blood  is  the  only  balm  that  he  applies  to  his  ach- 
ing limbs,  and  by  which  alone  he  imagines  that  he  can 
restore  peace  and  courage  to  his  tortured  conscience  and 
his  dread  of  death.  Ah,  ha!  we  have  told  him  that,  with 
each  new  execution  of  a  heretic,  one  of  his  great  sins  would 
be  blotted  out,  and  that  the  blood  of  the  Calvinists  serves 
to  wash  out  of  his  account-book  some  of  his  evil  deeds. 
He  would  be  so  glad  to  be  able  to  appear  pure  and  guilt- 
less before  the  tribunal  of  his  God!  Therefore  he  needs 
very  much  heretical  blood.  But  hark — the  hour  strikes 
which  summons  me  to  the  royal  chamber!  There  has  been 
enough  of  the  queen's  laughing  and  chit-chat.  We  will 
now  endeavor  to  banish  the  smile  forever  from  her  face. 
She  is  a  heretic;  and  it  is  a  pious  work,  well  pleasing  to 
God,  if  we  plunge  her  headlong  into  ruin! " 

"May  God  be  with  your  highness,  and  assist  you  by 
His  grace,  that  you  may  accomplish  this  sublime  work! " 

"  God  will  be  with  us,  my  son,  since  for  Him  it  is  that 
we  labor  and  harass  ourselves.  To  His  honor  and  praise 
we  bring  these  misbelieving  heretics  to  the  stake,  and  make 
the  air  re-echo  with  the  agonizing  shrieks  of  those  who  are 
racked  and  tortured.  That  is  music  well  pleasing  to  God; 
and  the  angels  in  heaven  will  triumph  and  be  glad  when 
the  heretical  and  infidel  Queen  Catharine  also  has  to  strike 
up  this  music  of  the  damned.  Now  I  go  to  the  holy  labor 
of  love  and  godly  wrath.  Pray  for  me,  my  son,  that  I  may 
succeed.  Remain  here  in  the  anteroom,  and  await  my 
call;  perhaps  we  shall  need  you.  Pray  for  us,  and  with  us. 
Ah,  we  still  owe  this  heretical  queen  a  grudge  for  Anne 
Askew.  To-day  we  will  pay  her.  Then  she  accused  us, 
to-day  we  will  accuse  her,  and  God  and  His  host  of  saint > 
and  angels  are  with  us." 

And  the  pious  and  godly  priest  crossed  himself,  and 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  373 

with  head  humbly  bowed  and  a  soft  smile  about  his  thin, 
bloodless  lips,  strode  through  the  hall  in  order  to  betake 
himself  to  the  king's  chamber. 


CHAPTEE   XXXIV. 

THE   KING   AND   THE   PRIEST. 

"  GOD  bless  and  preserve  your  majesty! "  said  Gardiner 
as  he  entered,  to  the  king,  who  just  then  was  sitting  with 
the  queen  at  the  chess-board.  With  frowning  brow  and 
compressed  lips  he  looked  over  the  game,  which  stood 
unfavorable  for  him,  and  threatened  him  with  a  speedy 
checkmate. 

It  was  not  wise  in  the  queen  not  to  let  the  king  win; 
for  his  superstitious  and  jealous  temper  looked  upon  such  a 
won  game  of  chess  as  withal  an  assault  on  his  own  person. 
And  he  who  ventured  to  conquer  him  at  chess  was  always 
to  Henry  a  sort  of  traitor  that  threatened  his  kingdom, 
and  was  rash  enough  to  attempt  to  seize  the  crown. 

The  queen  very  well  knew  that,  but — Gardiner  was 
right — she  was  too  self-confident.  She  trusted  a  little 
to  her  power  over  the  king;  she  imagined  he  would  make 
an  exception  in  her  favor.  And  it  was  so  dull  to  be  obliged 
ever  to  be  the  losing  and  conquered  party  at  this  game;  to 
permit  the  king  always  to  appear  as  the  triumphant  victor, 
and  to  bestow  on  his  game  praise  which  he  did  not  deserve. 
Catharine  wanted  to  allow  herself  for  once  the  triumph  of 
having  beaten  her  husband.  She  fought  him  man  to  man; 
she  irritated  him  by  the  ever-approaching  danger. 

The  king,  who  at  the  beginning  had  been  cheerful,  and 
laughed  when  Catharine  took  up  one  of  his  pieces — the 
king  now  no  longer  laughed.  It  was  no  more  a  game.  It 
was  a  serious  struggle;  and  he  contended  with  his  consort 
for  the  victory  with  impassioned  eagerness. 


374  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

Catharine  did  not  even  see  the  clouds  which  were  gath- 
ering on  the  king's  brow.  Her  looks  were  directed  only  to 
the  chess-board;  and,  breathless  with  expectation  and 
glowing  with  eagerness,  she  considered  the  move  she  was 
about  to  make. 

But  Gardiner  was  very  well  aware  of  the  king's  secret 
anger;  and  he  comprehended  that  the  situation  was  favor- 
able for  him. 

With  soft,  sneaking  step  he  approached  the  king,  and, 
standing  behind  him,  looked  over  the  game. 

"  You  are  checkmated  in  four  moves,  my  husband! " 
said  the  queen  with  a  cheerful  laugh,  as  she  made  her 
move. 

A  still  darker  frown  gathered  on  the  king's  brow,  and 
his  lips  were  violently  compressed. 

"  It  is  true,  your  majesty,"  said  Gardiner.  "  You  will 
soon  have  to  succumb.  Danger  threatens  you  from  the 
queen." 

Henry  gave  a  start,  and  turned  his  face  to  Gardiner 
with  an  expression  of  inquiry.  In  his  exasperated  mood 
against  the  queen,  the  crafty  priest's  ambiguous  remark 
struck  him  with  double  keenness. 

Gardiner  was  a  very  skilful  hunter;  the  very  first  arrow 
that  he  shot  had  hit.  But  Catharine,  too,  had  heard  it 
whiz.  Gardiner's  slow,  ambiguous  words  had  startled  her 
from  her  artless  security;  and  as  she  now  looked  into  the 
king's  glowing,  excited  face,  she  comprehended  her  want 
of  prudence. 

But  it  was  too  late  to  remedy  it.  The  king's  check- 
mate was  unavoidable;  and  Henry  himself  had  already 
noticed  his  defeat. 

"It  is  all  right!"  said  the  king,  impetuously.  "You 
have  won,  Catharine,  and,  by  the  holy  mother  of  God!  you 
can  boast  of  the  rare  good  fortune  of  having  vanquished 
Henry  of  England!" 

"I  will  not  boast  of  it,  my  noble  husband!"  said  she, 
with  a  smile.  "  You  have  played  with  me  as  the  lion  does 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  375 

with  the  puppy,  which  he  does  not  crush  only  because  he 
has  compassion  on  him,  and  he  pities  the  poor  little  crea- 
ture. Lion,  I  thank  you.  You  have  been  magnanimous 
to-day.  You  have  let  me  win." 

The  king's  face  brightened  a  little.  Gardiner  saw  it. 
He  must  prevent  Catharine  from  following  up  her  advan- 
tage further. 

"  Magnanimity  is  an  exalted,  but  a  very  dangerous 
virtue/'  said  he,  gravely;  "  and  kings  above  all  things 
dare  not  exercise  it;  for  magnanimity  pardons  crimes  com- 
mitted, and  kings  are  not  here  to  pardon,  but  to  punish." 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed,"  said  Catharine;  "  to  be  able  to  be 
magnanimous  is  the  noblest  prerogative  of  kings;  and 
since  they  are  God's  representatives  on  earth,  they  too 
must  exercise  pity  and  mercy,  like  God  himself." 

The  king's  brow  again  grew  dark,  and  his  sullen  looks 
stared  at  the  chess-board. 

Gardiner  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  made  no  reply. 
He  drew  a  roll  of  papers  out  of  his  gown  and  handed  it  to 
the  king. 

"  Sire,"  said  he,  "  I  hope  you  do  not  share  the  queen's 
views;  else  it  would  be  bad  for  the  quiet  and  peace  of  the 
country.  Mankind  cannot  be  governed  by  mercy,  but 
only  through  fear.  Your  majesty  holds  the  sword  in  his 
hands.  If  you  hesitate  to  let  it  fall  on  evil-doers,  they  will 
soon  wrest  it  from  your  hands,  and  you  will  be  powerless!  " 

"  Those  are  very  cruel  words,  your  highness! "  ex- 
claimed Catharine,  who  allowed  herself  to  be  carried  away 
by  her  magnanimous  heart,  and  suspected  that  Gardiner 
had  come  to  move  the  king  to  some  harsh  and  bloody 
decision. 

She  wanted  to  anticipate  his  design;  she  wanted  to 
move  the  king  to  mildness.  But  the  moment  was  unpro- 
pitious  for  her. 

The  king,  whom  she  had  just  before  irritated  by  her 
victory  over  him,  felt  his  vexation  heightened  by  the  oppo- 
sition which  she  offered  to  the  bishop;  for  this  opposition 


376  HENRY    Vin.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

was  at  the  same  time  directed  against  himself.  The  king 
was  not  at  all  inclined  to  exercise  mercy;  it  was,  therefore, 
a  very  wicked  notion  of  the  queen's  to  praise  mercy  as  the 
highest  privilege  of  princes. 

With  a  silent  nod  of  the  head,  he  took  the  papers  from 
Gardiner's  hands,  and  opened  them. 

"  Ah,"  said  he,  running  over  the  pages,  "  your  highness 
is  right;  men  do  not  deserve  to  be  treated  with  mercy,  for 
they  are  always  ready  to  abuse  it.  Because  we  have  for  a 
few  weeks  lighted  no  fagot-piles  and  erected  no  scaffolds, 
they  imagine  that  we  are  asleep;  and  they  begin  their 
treasonable  and  mischievous  doings  with  redoubled  vio- 
lence, and  raise  their  sinful  fists  against  us,  in  order  to 
mock  us.  I  see  here  an  accusation  against  one  who  has 
presumed  to  say  that  there  is  no  king  by  the  grace  of  God; 
and  that  the  king  is  a  miserable  and  sinful  mortal,  just  as 
well  as  the  lowest  beggar.  Well,  we  will  concede  this  man 
his  point — we  will  not  be  to  him  a  king  by  the  grace  of 
God,  but  a  king  by  the  wrath  of  God!  We  will  show  him 
that  we  are  not  yet  quite  like  the  lowest  beggar,  for  we 
still  possess  at  least  wood  enough  to  build  a  pile  of  fagots 
for  him." 

And  as  the  king  thus  spoke,  he  broke  out  into  a  loud 
laugh,  in  which  Gardiner  heartily  chimed. 

"  Here  I  behold  the  indictment  of  two  others  who  deny 
the  king's  supremacy,"  continued  Henry,  still  turning  over 
the  leaves  of  the  papers.  They  revile  me  as  a  blasphemer, 
because  I  dare  call  myself  God's  representative — the  visi- 
ble head  of  His  holy  Church;  they  say  that  God  alone  is 
Lord  of  His  Church,  and  that  Luther  and  Calvin  are  more 
exalted  representatives  of  God  than  the  king  himself. 
Verily  we  must  hold  our  royalty  and  our  God-granted  dig- 
nity very  cheap,  if  we  should  not  punish  these  transgres- 
sors, who  blaspheme  in  our  sacred  person  God  Himself." 

He  continued  turning  over  the  leaves.  Suddenly  a 
deep  flush  of  anger  suffused  his  countenance,  and  a  fierce 
curse  burst  from  his  lips. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   filS    COURT.  377 

He  threw  the  paper  on  the  table,  and  struck  it  with  his 
clenched  fist.  "  Are  all  the  devils  let  loose,  then?  "  yelled 
he,  in  wrath.  "  Does  sedition  blaze  so  wildly  in  my  land, 
that  we  have  no  longer  the  power  to  subdue  it?  Here  a 
fanatical  heretic  on  the  public  street  has  warned  the  peo- 
ple not  to  read  that  holy  book  which  I  myself,  like  a  well- 
intentioned  and  provident  father  and  guardian,  wrote  for 
my  people,  and  gave  it  them  that  they  might  be  edified 
and  exalted  thereby.  And  this  book  that  felon  has  shown 
to  the  people,  and  said  to  them:  '  You  call  that  the  king's 
book;  and  you  are  right;  for  it  is  a  wicked  book,  a  work  of 
hell,  and  the  devil  is  the  king's  sponsor! '  Ah,  I  see  well 
we  must  again  show  our  earnest  and  angry  face  to  this 
miserable,  traitorous  rabble,  that  it  may  again  have  faith 
in  the  king.  It  is  a  wretched,  disgusting,  and  contempt- 
ible mob — this  people!  They  are  obedient  and  humble 
only  when  they  tremble  and  feel  the  lash.  Only  when 
they  are  trampled  in  the  dust,  do  they  acknowledge  that 
we  are  their  master;  and  when  we  have  racked  them  and 
burnt,  they  have  respect  for  our  excellency.  We  must, 
however,  brand  royalty  on  their  bodies  so  that  they  may  be 
sensible  of  it  as  a  reality.  And  by  the  eternal  God,  we 
will  do  that!  Give  me  the  pen  here  that  I  may  sign  and 
ratify  these  warrants.  But  dip  the  pen  well,  your  high- 
ness, for  there  are  eight  warrants,  and  I  must  write  my 
name  eight  times.  Ah,  ah,  it  is  a  hard  and  fatiguing 
occupation  to  be  a  king,  and  no  day  passes  without  trouble 
and  toil! " 

"  The  Lord  our  God  will  bless  this  toil  to  you! "  said 
Gardiner,  solemnly,  as  he  handed  the  king  the  pen. 

Henry  was  preparing  to  write,  as  Catharine  laid  her 
hand  on  his,  and  checked  him. 

"  Do  not  sign  them,  my  husband,"  said  she,  in  a  voice 
of  entreaty.  "  Oh,  by  all  that  is  sacred  to  you,  I  conjure 
you  not  to  let  yourself  be  carried  away  by  your  momentary 
vexation;  let  not  the  injured  man  be  mightier  in  you 
than  the  righteous  king.  Let  the  sun  set  and  rise  on  your 
25 


378  HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

wrath;  and  then,  when  you  are  perfectly  calm,  perfectly 
composed — then  pronounce  judgment  on  these  accused. 
For  consider  it  well,  my  husband,  these  are  eight  death- 
warrants  that  you  are  here  about  to  sign;  and  with  these 
few  strokes  of  the  pen,  you  will  tear  eight  human  beings 
from  life,  from  family,  and  from  the  world;  you  will  take 
from  the  mother,  her  son;  from  the  wife,  her  husband; 
and  from  the  infant  children,  their  father.  Consider  it, 
Henry;  it  is  so  weighty  a  responsibility  that  God  has  placed 
in  your  hand,  and  it  is  presumptuous  not  to  meet  it  in  holy 
earnestness  and  undisturbed  tranquillity  of  mind." 

"  Now,  by  the  holy  mother! "  cried  the  king,  striking 
vehemently  upon  the  table,  "  I  believe,  forsooth,  you  dare 
excuse  traitors  and  blasphemers  of  their  king!  You  have 
not  heard  then  of  what  they  are  accused?  " 

"  I  have  heard  it,"  said  Catharine,  more  and  more 
warmly;  "  I  have  heard,  and  I  say,  nevertheless,  sign  not 
those  death-warrants,  my  husband.  It  is  true  these  poor 
creatures  have  grievously  erred,  but  they  erred  as  human 
beings.  Then  let  your  punishment  also  be  human.  It  is 
not  wise,  0  king,  to  want  to  avenge  so  bitterly  a  trifling 
injury  to  your  majesty.  A  king  must  be  exalted  above 
reviling  and  calumny.  Like  the  sun,  he  must  shine  upon 
the  just  and  the  unjust,  no  one  of  whom  is  so  mighty  that 
he  can  cloud  his  splendor  and  dim  his  glory.  Punish  evil- 
doers and  criminals,  but  be  noble  and  magnanimous  to- 
ward those  who  have  injured  your  person." 

"The  king  is  no  person  that  can  be  injured!"  said 
Gardiner.  "  The  king  is  a  sublime  idea,  a  mighty,  world- 
embracing  thought.  Whoever  injures  the  king,  has  not 
injured  a  person,  but  a  divinely  instituted  royalty — the 
universal  thought  that  holds  together  the  whole  world!  " 

"  Whoever  injures  the  king  has  injured  God! "  yelled 
the  king;  "  and  whoever  seizes  our  crown  and  reviles  us, 
shall  have  his  hand  struck  off,  and  his  tongue  torn  out,  as 
is  done  to  atheists  and  patricides!  " 

"Well,  strike  off  their  hand  then,  mutilate  them;  but 


HENKY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COUKT.  379 

do  not  kill  them!  "  cried  Catharine,  passionately.  "  Ascer- 
tain at  least  whether  their  crime  is  so  grievous  as  they 
want  to  make  you  believe,  my  husband.  Oh,  it  is  so  easy 
now  to  be  accused  as  a  traitor  and  atheist!  All  that  is 
needed  for  it  is  an  inconsiderate  word,  a  doubt,  not  as  to 
God,  but  to  his  priests  and  this  Church  which  you,  my  king, 
have  established;  and  of  which  the  lofty  and  peculiar 
structure  is  to  many  so  new  and  unusual  that  they  ask 
themselves  in  doubt  whether  that  is  a  Church  of  God  or  a 
palace  of  the  king,  and  that  they  lose  themselves  in  its 
labyrinthine  passages,  and  wander  about  without  being 
able  to  find  the  exit." 

"  Had  they  faith,"  said  Gardiner,  solemnly,  "  they 
would  not  lose  their  way;  and  were  God  with  them,  the 
entrance  would  not  be  closed  to  them." 

"  Oh,  I  well  know  that  you  are  always  inexorable ! " 
cried  Catharine,  angrily.  "  But  it  is  not  to  you  either 
that  I  intercede  for  mercy,  but  to  the  king;  and  I  tell  you, 
sir  bishop,  it  would  be  better  for  you,  and  more  worthy  of  a 
priest  of  Christian  love,  if  you  united  your  prayers  with 
mine,  instead  of  wanting  to  dispose  the  king's  noble  heart 
to  severity.  You  are  a  priest;  and  you  have  learned  in 
your  own  life  that  there  are  many  paths  that  lead  to  God, 
and  that  we,  one  and  all,  doubt  and  are  perplexed  which 
of  them  is  right." 

"  How ! "  screamed  the  king,  as  he  rose  from  his  seat 
and  gazed  at  Catharine  with  angry  looks.  "  You  mean, 
then,  that  the  heretics  also  may  find  themselves  on  a  path 
that  leads  to  God?" 

"  I  mean,"  cried  she,  passionately,  "  that  Jesus  Christ, 
too,  was  called  an  atheist,  and  executed.  I  mean  that 
Stephen  was  stoned  by  Paul,  and  that,  nevertheless,  both 
are  now  honored  as  saints  and  prayed  to  as  such.  I  mean, 
that  Socrates  was  not  damned  because  he  lived  before 
Christ,  and  so  could  not  be  acquainted  with  his  religion; 
and  that  Horace  and  Julius  Caesar,  Phidias  and  Plato, 
must  yet  be  called  great  and  noble  spirits,  even  though 


380  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

they  were  heathen.  Yes,  my  lord  and  husband,  I  mean 
that  it  behooves  us  well  to  exercise  gentleness  in  matters 
of  religion,  and  that  faith  is  not  to  be  obtruded  on  men 
by  main  force  as  a  burden,  but  is  to  be  bestowed  upon  them 
as  a  benefit  through  their  own  conviction/' 

"  So  you  do  not  hold  these  eight  accused  to  be  crimi- 
nals worthy  of  death?"  asked  Henry  with  studied  calm- 
ness, and  a  composure  maintained  with  difficulty. 

"No,  my  husband!  I  hold  that  they  are  poor,  erring 
mortals,  who  seek  the  right  path,  and  would  willingly 
travel  it;  and  who,  therefore,  ask  in  doubt  all  along,  '  Is 
this  the  right  way? ' ; 

"  It  is  enough! "  said  the  king,  as  he  beckoned  Gardi- 
ner to  him,  and,  leaning  on  his  arm,  took  a  few  steps  across 
the  room.  "  We  will  speak  no  more  of  these  matters. 
They  are  too  grave  for  us  to  wish  to  decide  them  in  the 
presence  of  our  gay  young  queen.  The  heart  of  woman  is 
always  inclined  to  gentleness  and  forgiveness.  You  should 
have  borne  that  in  mind,  Gardiner,  and  not  have  spoken 
of  these  matters  in  the  queen's  presence." 

"  Sire,  it  was,  however,  the  hour  that  you  appointed 
for  consultation  on  these  matters." 

"  Was  it  the  hour! "  exclaimed  the  king,  quickly. 
"Well,  then  we  did  wrong  to  devote  it  to  anything  else 
than  grave  employments;  and  you  will  pardon  me,  queen, 
if  I  beg  you  to  leave  me  alone  with  the  bishop.  Affairs  of 
state  must  not  be  postponed." 

He  presented  Catharine  his  hand,  and  with  difficulty, 
and  yet  with  a  smiling  countenance,  conducted  her  to  the 
door.  As  she  stopped,  and,  looking  him  in  the  eye  with 
an  expression  inquiring  and  anxious,  opened  her  lips  to 
speak  to  him,  he  made  an  impatient  gesture  with  his  hand, 
and  a  dark  frown  gathered  on  his  brow. 

"  It  is  late,"  said  he,  hastily,  "  and  we  have  business  of 
state." 

Catharine  did  not  venture  to  speak;  she  bowed  in 
silence  and  left  the  room.  The  king  watched  her  with 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  381 

sullen  brow  and  angry  looks.  Then  he  turned  round  to 
Gardiner. 

"  Now,"  asked  he,  "  what  do  you  think  of  the  queen?  " 

"  I  think,"  said  Gardiner,  so  slowly  and  so  deliberately 
that  each  word  had  time  to  penetrate  the  king's  sensitive 
heart  like  the  prick  of  a  needle — "  I  think  that  she  does 
not  deem  them  criminals  that  call  the  holy  book  which 
you  have  written  a  work  of  hell;  and  that  she  has  a  great 
deal  of  sympathy  for  those  heretics  who  will  not  ac- 
knowledge your  supremacy." 

"  By  the  holy  mother,  I  believe  she  herself  would  speak 
thus,  and  avow  herself  among  my  enemies,  if  she  were  not 
my  wife!"  cried  the  king,  in  whose  heart  rage  began  al- 
ready to  seethe  like  lava  in  a  volcano. 

"She  does  it  already,  although  she  is  your  wife,  sire! 
She  imagines  her  exalted  position  renders  her  unamenable, 
and  protects  her  from  your  righteous  wrath;  therefore  she 
does  what  no  one  else  dares  do,  and  speaks  what  in  the 
mouth  of  any  other  would  be  the  blackest  treason." 

"  What  does  she?  and  what  says  she?  "  cried  the  king. 
"  Do  not  hesitate  to  tell  me,  your  highness.  It  behooves 
me  well  to  know  what  my  wife  does  and  says." 

"  Sire,  she  is  not  merely  the  secret  patroness  of  heretics 
and  reformers,  but  she  is  also  a  professor  of  their  faith. 
She  listens  to  their  false  doctrine  with  eager  mind,  and 
receives  the  cursed  priests  of  this  sect  into  her  apartments, 
in  order  to  hear  their  fanatical  discourse  and  hellish  in- 
spiration. She  speaks  of  these  heretics  as  true  believers 
and  Christians;  and  denominates  Luther  the  light  that 
God  has  sent  into  the  world  to  illuminate  the  gloom  and 
falsehood  of  the  Church  with  the  splendor  of  truth  and 
love — that  Luther,  sire,  who  dared  write  you  such  shame- 
ful and  insulting  letters,  and  ridiculed  in  such  a  brutal 
manner  your  royalty  and  your  wisdom." 

"  She  is  a  heretic;  and  when  you  say  that,  you  say 
everything! "  screamed  the  king.  The  volcano  was  ripe 
for  an  eruption,  and  the  seething  lava  must  at  last  have 


382  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

an  outlet.  "  Yes,  she  is  a  heretic! "  repeated  the  king; 
"  and  yet  we  have  sworn  to  exterminate  these  atheists 
from  our  land." 

"  She  very  well  knows  that  she  is  secure  from  your 
wrath,"  said  Gardiner,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 
"  She  relies  on  the  fact  that  she  is  the  queen,  and  that  in 
the  heart  of  her  exalted  husband  love  is  mightier  than  the 
faith." 

"Nobody  shall  suppose  that  he  is  secure  from  my 
wrath,  and  no  one  shall  rely  on  the  security  afforded  him 
by  my  love.  She  is  a  proud,  arrogant,  and  audacious 
woman!  "  cried  the  king,  whose  looks  were  just  then  fixed 
again  on  the  chess-board,  and  whose  spite  was  heightened 
by  the  remembrance  of  the  lost  game.  "  She  ventures  to 
brave  us,  and  to  have  a  will  other  than  ours.  By  the  holy 
mother,  we  will  endeavor  to  break  her  stubbornness,  and 
bend  her  proud  neck  beneath  our  will!  Yes,  I  will  show 
the  world  that  Henry  of  England  is  still  the  immovable 
and  incorruptible.  I  will  give  the  heretics  an  evidence 
that  I  am  in  reality  the  defender  and  protector  of  the 
faith  and  of  religion  in  my  land,  and  that  nobody  stands 
too  high  to  be  struck  by  my  wrath,  and  to  feel  the  sword  of 
justice  on  his  neck.  She  is  a  heretic;  and  we  have  sworn 
to  destroy  heretics  with  fire  and  sword.  We  shall  keep  our 
oath." 

"  And  God  will  bless  you  with  His  blessing.  He  will 
surround  your  head  with  a  halo  of  fame;  and  the  Church 
will  praise  you  as  her  most  glorious  pastor,  her  exalted 
head." 

"  Be  it  so!  "  said  the  king,  as  with  youthful  alacrity  he 
strode  across  the  room;  and,  stepping  to  his  writing-table, 
with  a  vigorous  and  fleet  hand  he  wrote  down  a  few  lines. 

Gardiner  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room  with  his 
hands  folded;  and  his  lips  murmured  in  an  undertone  a 
prayer,  while  his  large  flashing  eyes  were  fastened  on  the 
king  with  a  curious  and  penetrating  expression. 

"Here,  your  highness,"  the  king  then  said,  "take  this 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COUliT.  383 

paper — take  it  and  order  everything  necessary.  It  is  an 
arrest-warrant;  and  before  the  night  draws  on,  the  queen 
shall  be  in  the  Tower." 

"  Verily,  the  Lord  is  mighty  in  you! "  cried  Gardiner, 
as  he  took  the  paper;  "  the  heavenly  hosts  sing  their  halle- 
lujah and  look  down  with  rapture  on  the  hero  who  subdues 
his  own  heart  to  serve  God  and  the  Church." 

"  Take  it  and  speed  you!  "  said  the  king,  hastily.  "  In 
a  few  hours  everything  must  be  done.  Give  Earl  Douglas 
the  paper,  and  bid  him  go  with  it  to  the  lord-lieutenant  of 
the  Tower,  so  that  he  himself  may  repair  hither  with  the 
yeomen  of  the  guard.  For  this  woman  is  yet  a  queen,  and 
even  in  the  criminal  I  will  still  recognize  the  queen.  The 
lord-lieutenant  himself  must  conduct  her  to  the  Tower. 
Hasten  then,  say  I!  But,  hark  you,  keep  all  this  a  secret, 
and  let  nobody  know  anything  of  it  till  the  decisive  mo- 
ment arrives.  Otherwise  her  friends  might  take  a  notion 
to  implore  my  mercy  for  this  sinner;  and  I  abhor  this 
whining  and  crying.  Silence,  then,  for  I  am  tired  and 
need  rest  and  sleep.  I  have,  as  you  say,  just  done  a  work 
well  pleasing  to  God;  perhaps  He  may  send  me,  as  a  re- 
ward for  it,  invigorating  and  strengthening  sleep,  which  I 
have  now  so  long  desired  in  vain." 

And  the  king  threw  back  the  curtains  of  his  couch, 
and,  supported  by  Gardiner,  laid  himself  on  the  downy 
cushion. 

Gardiner  drew  the  curtains  again,  and  thrust  the  fatal 
paper  into  his  pocket.  Even  in  his  hands  it  did  not  seem 
to  him  secure  enough.  What!  might  not  some  curious 
eye  fasten  on  it,  and  divine  its  contents?  Might  not  some 
impertinent  and  shameless  friend  of  the  queen  snatch  this 
paper  from  him,  and  carry  it  to  her  and  give  her  warning? 
No,  no,  it  was  not  secure  enough  in  his  hands.  He  must 
hide  it  in  the  pocket  of  his  gown.  There,  no  one  could 
find  it,  no  one  discover  it. 

So  there  he  hid  it.  In  the  gown  with  its  large  folds 
it  was  safe;  and,  after  he  had  thus  concealed  the  precious 


384  HENRY   VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

paper,  he  left  the  room  with  rapid  strides,  in  order  to 
acquaint  Earl  Douglas  with  the  glorious  result  of  his 
plans. 

Not  a  single  time  did  he  look  back.  Had  he  done  so, 
he  would  have  sprung  back  into  that  room  as  a  tiger 
pounces  on  his  prey.  He  would  have  plunged,  as  the 
hawk  stoops  at  the  dove,  at  that  piece  of  white  paper  that 
lay  there  on  the  floor,  exactly  on  the  spot  where  Gardiner 
was  before  standing  when  he  placed  into  his  pocket  the 
arrest-warrant  written  by  the  king. 

Ah,  even  the  gown  of  a  priest  is  not  always  close 
enough  to  conceal  a  dangerous  secret;  and  even  the  pocket 
of  a  bishop  may  sometimes  have  holes  in  it. 

Gardiner  went  away  with  the  proud  consciousness  of 
having  the  order  of  arrest  in  his  pocket;  and  that  fatal 
paper  lay  on  the  floor  in  the  middle  of  the  king's 
chamber. 

Who  will  come  to  pick  it  up?  Who  will  become  the 
sharer  of  this  dangerous  secret?  To  whom  will  this  mute 
paper  proclaim  the  shocking  news  that  the  queen  has 
fallen  into  disgrace,  and  is  this  very  day  to  be  dragged  to 
the  Tower  as  a  prisoner? 

All  is  still  and  lonely  in  the  king's  apartment.  Noth- 
ing is  stirring,  not  even  the  heavy  damask  curtains  of  the 
royal  couch. 

The  king  sleeps.  Even  vexation  and  anger  are  a  good 
lullaby;  they  have  so  agitated  and  prostrated  the  king, 
that  he  has  actually  fallen  asleep  from  weariness. 

Ah,  the  king  should  have  been  thankful  to  bis  wife  for 
his  vexation  at  the  lost  game  of  chess,  and  his  wrath  at 
Catharine's  heretical  sentiments.  These  had  fatigued 
him;  these  had  lulled  him  to  sleep. 

The  warrant  of  arrest  still  lay  on  the  floor.  Now,  quite 
softly,  quite  cautiously,  the  door  opens.  Who  is  it  that 
dares  venture  to  enter  the  king's  room  unsummoned  and 
unannounced? 

There  are  only  three  persons  who  dare  venture  that: 


HENRY    VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  385 

the  queen,  Princess  Elizabeth,  and  John  Heywood  the 
fool.  Which  of  the  three  is  it? 

It  is  Princess  Elizabeth,  who  comes  to  salute  her  royal 
father.  Every  forenoon  at  this  hour  she  had  found  the 
king  in  his  room.  Where  was  he  then  to-day?  As  she 
looked  around  the  room  with  an  inquiring  and  surprised 
air,  her  eye  fell  on  that  paper  which  lay  there  on  the  floor. 
She  picked  it  up,  and  examined  it  with  childish  curiosity. 
What  could  this  paper  contain?  Surely  it  was  no  secret—- 
else, it  would  not  lie  here  on  the  floor. 

She  opened  it  and  read.  Her  fine  countenance  ex- 
pressed horror  and  amazement;  a  low  exclamation  escaped 
her  lips.  But  Elizabeth  had  a  strong  and  resolute  soul; 
and  the  unexpected  and  the  surprising  did  not  dull  her 
clear  vision,  nor  cloud  her  sharp  wit.  The  queen  was  in 
danger.  The  queen  was  to  be  imprisoned.  That,  this 
dreadful  paper  shrieked  in  her  ear;  but  she  durst  not 
allow  herself  to  be  stunned  by  it.  She  must  act;  she  must 
warn  the  queen. 

She  hid  the  paper  in  her  bosom,  and  light  as  a  zephyr 
she  floated  away  again  out  of  the  chamber. 

With  flashing  eyes  and  cheeks  reddened  by  her  rapid 
race  Elizabeth  entered  the  queen's  chamber;  with  passion- 
ate vehemence  she  clasped  her  in  her  arms  and  tenderly 
kissed  her. 

"  Catharine,  my  queen,  and  my  mother,"  said  she,  "  we 
have  sworn  to  stand  by  and  protect  each  other  when  dan- 
ger threatens  us.  Fate  is  gracious  to  me,  for  it  has  given 
into  my  hand  the  means  of  making  good  my  oath  this 
very  day.  Take  that  paper  and  read!  It  is  an  order 
for  your  imprisonment,  made  out  by  the  king  himself. 
When  you  have  read  it,  then  let  us  consider  what  is  to  be 
done,  and  how  we  can  avert  the  danger  from  you." 

"An  order  of  imprisonment!"  said  Catharine,  with  a 
shudder,  as  she  read  it.  "An  order  of  imprisonment — 
that  is  to  say,  a  death-warrant!  For  when  once  the 
threshold  of  that  frightful  Tower  is  crossed,  it  denotes 


386  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS   COURT. 

that  it  is  never  to  be  left  again;  and  if  a  queen  is  arrested 
and  accused,  then  is  she  also  already  condemned.  Oh,  my 
God,  princess,  do  you  comprehend  that — to  have  to  die 
while  life  still  throbs  so  fresh  and  warm  in  our  veins?  To 
be  obliged  to  go  to  death,  while  the  future  still  allures  us 
with  a  thousand  hopes,  a  thousand  wishes?  My  God,  to 
have  to  descend  into  the  desolate  prison  and  into  the 
gloomy  grave,  while  the  world  greets  us  with  alluring 
voices,  and  spring-tide  has  scarcely  awoke  in  our  heart!  " 

Streams  of  tears  burst  from  her  eyes,  and  she  hid  her 
face  in  her  trembling  hands. 

"  Weep  not,  queen,"  whispered  Elizabeth,  herself  trem- 
bling and  pale  as  death.  "  Weep  not;  but  consider  what 
is  to  be  done.  Each  minute,  and  the  danger  increases; 
each  minute  brings  the  evil  nearer  to  us." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Catharine,  as  she  again  raised 
her  head,  and  shook  the  tears  from  her  eyes.  "  Yes,  you 
are  right;  it  is  not  time  to  weep  and  wail.  Death  is  creep- 
ing upon  me;  but  I — I  will  not  die.  I  live  still;  and  so 
long  as  there  is  a  breath  in  me  I  will  fight  against  death. 
God  will  assist  me;  God  will  help  me  to  overcome  this 
danger  also,  as  I  have  already  done  so  many  others." 

"  But  what  will  you  do?  where  can  you  begin?  You 
know  not  the  accusation.  You  know  not  who  accuses  you, 
nor  with  what  you  are  charged." 

"  Yet  I  suspect  it!  "  said  the  queen,  musingly.  "  When 
I  now  recall  to  mind  the  king's  angry  countenance,  and 
the  malicious  smile  of  that  malignant  priest,  I  believe  I 
know  the  accusation.  Yes — everything  is  now  clear  to 
me.  Ah,  it  is  the  heretic  that  they  would  sentence  to 
death.  Well,  now,  my  lord  bishop,  I  still  live;  and  we  will 
see  which  of  us  two  will  gain  the  victory! " 

With  proud  step  and  glowing  cheeks  she  hurried  to 
the  door.  Elizabeth  held  her  back.  "  Whither  are  you 
going?  "  cried  she,  in  astonishment. 

"  To  the  king!  "  said  she,  with  a  proud  smile.  "  Tie 
I,.--  hp.inl  the  bishop;  now  he  shall  hoar  mo  also.  The 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  357 

king's  disposition  is  fickle  and  easily  changed.  We  will 
now  see  which  cunning  is  the  stronger — the  cunning  of  the 
priest  or  the  cunning  of  the  woman.  Elizabeth,  pray  for 
me.  I  go  to  the  king;  and  you  will  either  see  me  free  and 
happy,  or  never  again." 

She  imprinted  a  passionate  kiss  on  Elizabeth's  lips,  and 
hurriedly  left  the  chamber. 


CHAPTEE   XXXV. 

CHESS-PLAY. 

IT  was  many  days  since  the  king  had  been  as  well  as 
he  was  to-day.  For  a  long  time  he  had  not  enjoyed  such 
refreshing  sleep  as  on  the  day  when  he  signed  the  warrant 
for  the  queen's  imprisonment.  But  he  thought  nothing 
at  all  about  it.  Sleep  seemed  to  have  obliterated  all  recol- 
lection of  it  from  his  memory.  Like  an  anecdote  which 
you  listen  to,  and  smile  at  for  the  moment,  but  soon  forget, 
so  had  the  whole  occurrence  vanished  again  from  him.  It 
was  an  anecdote  of  the  moment — a  transient  interlude — 
nothing  further. 

The  king  had  slept  well,  and  he  had  no  care  for  any- 
thing else.  He  stretched  himself,  and  lay  lounging  on  his 
couch,  thinking  with  rapture  how  fine  it  would  be  if  he 
could  enjoy  such  sweet  and  refreshing  repose  every  day, 
and  if  no  bad  dreams  and  no  fear  would  frighten  away 
sleep  from  his  eyes.  He  felt  very  serene  and  very  good- 
humored;  and  had  any  one  now  come  to  beg  a  favor  of  the 
king,  he  would  have  granted  it  in  the  first  joy  after  such 
invigorating  sleep.  But  he  was  alone;  no  one  was  with 
him;  he  must  repress  his  gracious  desires.  But  no.  Was 
it  not  as  though  something  were  stirring  and  breathing 
behind  the  curtains? 


388  HENRY    VIH.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

The  king  threw  back  the  curtains,  and  a  soft  Bmile 
flitted  over  his  features;  for  before  his  bed  sat  the  queen. 
There  she  sat  with  rosy  cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes,  and 
greeted  him  with  a  roguish  smile. 

"  Ah,  Kate,  it  is  you!  "  cried  the  king.  "  Well,  now,  I 
understand  how  it  happened  that  I  have  had  such  a  sound 
and  refreshing  sleep!  You  stood  by  as  my  good  angel, 
and  scared  the  pains  and  bad  dreams  away  from  my  couch." 

And  as  he  said  this,  he  reached  out  his  hand  and  ten- 
derly stroked  her  velvet  cheek.  He  did  not  at  all  recol- 
lect that  he  had  already,  as  it  were,  devoted  that  charming 
head  to  the  scaffold,  and  that  in  a  few  hours  more  those 
bright  eyes  were  to  b.hold  naught  but  the  night  of  the 
dungeon.  Sleep,  as  we  have  said,  had  lulled  to  rest  also  the 
recollection  of  this;  and  the  evil  thoughts  had  not  yet 
awoke  again  in  him.  To  sign  an  order  of  arrest  or  a  death- 
warrant  was  with  the  king  such  a  usual  and  every-day  mat- 
ter, that  it  constituted  no  epoch  in  his  life,  and  neither 
burdened  him  with  troubles  of  conscience  nor  made  his 
heart  shudder  and  tremble. 

But  Catharine  thought  of  it,  and  as  the  king's  hand 
stroked  her  cheek,  it  was  as  though  death  were  just  then 
touching  her,  never  again  to  release  her.  However,  she 
overcame  this  momentary  horror,  and  had  the  courage  to 
preserve  her  serene  and  innocent  air. 

"  You  call  me  your  good  angel,  my  husband,"  said  she, 
with  a  smile;  "  but  yet  I  am  nothing  more  than  your  little 
Puck,  who  bustles  about  you,  and  now  and  then  makes 
you  laugh  with  his  drolleries." 

"And  a  dear  little  Puck  you  are,  Katie,"  cried  the 
king,  who  always  gazed  upon  his  wife's  rosy  and  fresh 
countenance  with  real  satisfaction. 

"  Then  I  will  prove  myself  this  very  day  your  Puck, 
and  allow  you  no  more  repose  on  your  couch/'  said  she,  as 
she  made  a  mock  effort  to  raise  him  up.  "  Do  you  know, 
rny  husband,  why  I  came  here?  A  butterfly  has  tapped  at 
my  window.  Only  think  now,  a  butterfly  in  winter!  That 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT.  389 

betokens  that  this  time  winter  is  spring;  and  the  clerk  of 
the  weather  above  there  has  confounded  January  with 
March.  The  butterfly  has  invited  us,  king;  and  only  see! 
the  sun  is  winking  into  the  window  to  us,  and  says  we  have 
but  to  come  out,  as  he  has  already  dried  the  walks  in  the 
garden  below,  and  called  forth  a  little  grass  on  the  plat. 
And  your  rolling  chair  stands  all  ready,  my  lord  and  hus- 
band, and  your  Puck,  as  you  see,  has  already  put  on  her 
furs,  and  clad  herself  in  armor  against  the  winter,  which, 
however,  is  not  there!" 

"  Well,  then,  help  me,  my  dearest  Puck,  so  that  I  can 
arise,  and  obey  the  command  of  the  butterfly  and  the 
sun  and  my  lovely  wife,"  cried  the  king,  as  he  put  his  arm 
around  Catharine's  neck,  and  slowly  raised  himself  from 
the  couch. 

She  busied  herself  about  him  with  officious  haste;  she 
put  her  arm  tenderly  on  his  shoulder  and  supported  him, 
and  properly  arranged  for  him  the  gold  chain,  which  had 
slipped  out  of  place  on  his  doublet,  and  playfully  plaited 
the  lace  ruff  which  was  about  his  neck. 

"Is  it  your  order,  my  husband,  that  your  servants 
come? — the  master  of  ceremonies,  who,  without  doubt, 
awaits  your  beck  in  the  anteroom — the  lord  bishop — who 
awhile  ago  made  such  a  black-looking  face  at  me?  But 
how!  my  husband,  your  face,  too,  is  now  in  an  eclipse? 
How?  Has  your  Puck  perchance  said  something  to  put 
you  out  of  tune?" 

"  No,  indeed!  "  said  the  king,  gloomily;  but  he  avoided 
meeting  her  smiling  glance  and  looking  in  her  rosy  face. 

The  evil  thoughts  had  again  awoke  in  him;  and  he  now 
remembered  the  warrant  of  arrest  that  he  had  given  Gar- 
diner. He  remembered  it,  and  he  regretted  it.  For  she 
was  so  fair  and  lovely — his  young  queen;  she  understood 
so  well  by  her  jests  to  smooth  away  care  from  his  brow,  and 
affright  vexation  from  his  soul — she  was  such  an  agreeable 
and  sprightly  pastime,  such  a  refreshing  means  of  driving 
away  ennui. 


390  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT 

Not  for  her  sake  did  he  regret  what  he  ht»d  done,  but 
only  on  his  own  account.  From  selfishness  alone,  he  re- 
pented having  issued  that  order  for  the  queen's  imprison- 
ment. Catharine  observed  him.  Her  glance,  sharpened 
by  inward  fear,  read  his  thoughts  on  his  brow,  and  under- 
stood the  sigh  which  involuntarily  arose  from  his  breast. 
She  again  seized  courage;  she  might  succeed  in  turning 
away  by  a  smile  the  sword  that  hung  over  her  head. 

"  Come,  my  lord  and  husband,"  said  she,  cheerfully, 
"  the  sun  beckons  to  us,  and  the  trees  shake  their  heads 
indignantly  because  we  are  not  yet  there." 

"  Yes,  come,  Kate,"  said  the  king,  rousing  himself  with 
an  effort  from  his  brown  study;  "  come,  we  will  go  down 
into  God's  free  air.  Perhaps  He  is  nearer  to  us  there,  and 
may  illuminate  us  with  good  thoughts  and  wholesome  reso- 
lutions. Come,  Kate." 

The  queen  gave  him  her  arm,  and,  supported  on  it,  the 
king  advanced  a  few  steps.  But  suddenly  Catharine  stood 
still;  and  as  the  king  fastened  on  her  his  inquiring  look, 
she  blushed  and  cast  down  her  eyes. 

"  Well!  "  asked  the  king,  "  why  do  you  linger?  " 

"  Sire,  I  was  considering  your  words;  and  what  you  say 
about  the  sun  and  wholesome  resolutions  has  touched  my 
heart  and  startled  my  conscience.  My  husband,  you  are 
right;  God  is  there  without,  and  I  dare  not  venture  to  be- 
hold the  sun,  which  is  God's  eye,  before  I  have  made  my 
confession  and  received  absolution.  Sire,  I  am  a  great 
sinner,  and  my  conscience  gives  me  no  rest.  Will  you  be 
my  confessor,  and  listen  to  me?  " 

The  king  sighed.  "  Ah,"  thought  he,  "  she  is  hurry- 
ing to  destruction,  and  by  her  own  confession  of  guilt  she 
will  make  it  impossible  for  me  to  hold  her  guiltless! " 

"  Speak! "  said  he  aloud. 

"First,"  said  she,  with  downcast  eyes — "first,  I  must 
confess  to  you  that  I  have  to-day  deceived  you,  my  lord 
and  king.  Vanity  and  sinful  pride  enticed  me  to  this; 
and  childish  anger  made  me  consummate  what  vanity 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  391 

whispered  to  me.  But  I  repent,  my  king;  I  repent  from 
the  bottom  of  my  soul,  and  I  swear  to  you,  my  husband — 
yes,  I  swear  to  you  by  all  that  is  sacred  to  me,  that  it  is 
the  first  and  only  time  that  I  have  deceived  you.  And 
never  will  I  venture  to  do  it  again,  for  it  is  a  dismal 
and  awful  feeling  to  stand  before  you  with  a  guilty  con- 
science." 

"  And  in  what  have  you  deceived  us,  Kate?  "  asked  the 
king;  and  his  voice  trembled. 

Catharine  drew  from  her  dress  a  small  roll  of  paper, 
and,  humbly  bowing,  handed  it  to  the  king.  "  Take  and 
see  for  yourself,  my  husband,"  said  she. 

With  hurried  hand  the  king  opened  the  paper,  and 
then  looked  in  utter  astonishment,  now  at  its  contents, 
and  now  at  the  blushing  face  of  the  queen. 

"What!"  said  he,  "you  give  me  a  pawn  from  the 
chess-board!  What  does  that  mean?  " 

"  That  means,"  said  she,  in  a  tone  of  utter  contrition — 
"  that  means,  that  I  stole  it  from  you,  and  thereby  cheated 
you  out  of  your  victory.  Oh,  pardon  me,  my  husband!  but 
I  could  no  longer  endure  to  lose  always,  and  I  was  afraid 
you  would  no  more  allow  me  the  pleasure  of  playing  with 
you,  when  you  perceived  what  a  weak  and  contemptible 
antagonist  I  am.  And  behold,  this  little  pawn  was  my 
enemy!  It  stood  near  my  queen  and  threatened  her  with 
check,  while  it  discovered  check  to  my  king  from  your 
bishop.  You  were  just  going  to  make  this  move,  which 
was  to  ruin  me,  when  Bishop  Gardiner  entered.  You 
turned  away  your  eyes  and  saluted  him.  You  were  not 
looking  on  the  game.  Oh,  my  lord  and  husband,  the 
temptation  was  too  alluring  and  seductive;  and  I  yielded 
to  it.  Softly  I  took  the  pawn  from  the  board,  and  slipped 
it  into  my  pocket.  When  you  looked  again  at  the  game, 
you  seemed  surprised  at  first;  but  your  magnanimous  and 
lofty  spirit  had  no  suspicion  of  my  base  act;  so  you  inno- 
cently played  on;  and  so  I  won  the  game  of  chess.  Oh, 
my  king,  will  you  pardon  me,  and  not  be  angry  with  me?  " 


392  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

The  king  broke  out  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  looked  with 
an  expression  of  tenderness  at  Catharine,  who  stood  before 
him  with  downcast  eyes,  abashed  and  blushing.  This 
sight  only  redoubled  his  merriment,  and  made  him  again 
and  again  roar  out  with  laughter. 

"And  is  that  all  your  crime,  Kate?"  asked  he,  at 
length,  drying  his  eyes.  "  You  have  stolen  a  pawn  from 
me — this  is  your  first  and  only  deception?  " 

"  Is  it  not  indeed  great  enough,  sire?  Did  I  not  pur- 
loin it  because  I  was  so  high-minded  as  to  want  to  win  a 
game  of  chess  from  you?  Is  not  the  whole  court  even 
now  acquainted  with  my  splendid  luck?  And  does  it  not 
know  that  I  have  been  the  victor  to-day,  whilst  yet  I 
was  not  entitled  to  be  so — whilst  I  deceived  you  so  shame- 
fully? " 

"Now,  verily/'  said  the  king,  solemnly,  "happy  are 
the  men  who  are  not  worse  deceived  by  their  wives  than 
you  have  deceived  me  to-day;  and  happy  are  the  women 
whose  confessions  are  so  pure  and  innocent  as  yours  have 
been  to-day!  Do  but  lift  up  your  eyes  again,  my  Katie; 
that  sin  is  forgiven  you;  and  by  God  and  by  your  king  it 
shall  be  accounted  to  you  as  a  virtue." 

He  laid  his  hand  on  her  head,  as  if  in  blessing,  and 
gazed  at  her  long  and  silently.  Then,  said  he,  laughingly: 
"According  to  this,  then,  my  Kate,  I  should  have  been 
the  victor  of  to-day,  and  not  have  lost  that  game  of  chess." 

"  No,"  said  she,  dolefully,  "  I  must  have  lost  it,  if  I  had 
not  stolen  the  pawn." 

Again  the  king  laughed.  Catharine  said,  earnestly: 
"  Do  but  believe  me,  my  husband,  Bishop  Gardiner  alone 
is  the  cause  of  my  fall.  Because  he  was  by,  I  did  not  want 
to  lose.  My  pride  revolted  to  think  that  this  haughty  and 
arrogant  priest  was  to  be  witness  of  my  defeat.  In  mind, 
I  already  saw  the  cold  and  contemptuous  smile  with  which 
he  would  look  down  on  me,  the  vanquished;  and  my  heart 
rose  in  rebellion  at  the  thought  of  being  humbled  before 
him.  And  now  I  have  arrived  at  the  second  part  of  my 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  393 

fault  which  I  want  to  confess  to  you  to-day.  Sire,  I  must 
acknowledge  another  great  fault  to  you.  I  have  grievously 
offended  against  you  to-day,  in  that  I  contradicted  you, 
and  withstood  your  wise  and  pious  words.  Ah,  my  hus- 
band, it  was  not  done  to  spite  you,  but  only  to  vex  and 
annoy  the  haughty  priest.  For  I  must  confess  to  you,  my 
king,  I  hate  this  Bishop  of  Winchester — ay,  yet  more — I 
have  a  dread  of  him;  for  my  foreboding  heart  tells  me  that 
he  is  my  enemy,  that  he  is  watching  each  of  my  looks,  each 
of  my  words,  so  that  he  can  make  from  them  a  noose  to 
strangle  me.  He  is  the  evil  destiny  that  creeps  up  behind 
me  and  would  one  day  certainly  destroy  me,  if  your  benefi- 
cent hand  and  your  almighty  arm  did  not  protect  mo. 
Oh,  when  I  behold  him,  my  husband,  I  would  always  gladly 
fly  to  your  heart,  and  say  to  you:  '  Protect  me,  my  king, 
and  have  compassion  on  me!  Have  faith  in  me  and  love 
me;  for  if  you  do  not,  I  am  lost!  The  evil  fiend  is  there 
to  destroy  me.' " 

And,  as  she  thus  spoke,  she  clung  affectionately  to  the 
king's  side,  and,  leaning  her  head  on  his  breast,  looked  up 
to  him  with  a  glance  of  tender  entreaty  and  touching 
devotion. 

The  king  bent  down  and  kissed  her  brow.  "  Oh,  sancta 
simplicitas"  softly  murmured  he — "  she  knows  not  how 
nigh  she  is  to  the  truth,  and  how  much  reason  she  has  for 
her  evil  forebodings!  "  Then  he  asked  aloud:  "  So,  Kate, 
you  believe  that  Gardiner  hates  you?" 

"  I  do  not  believe  it,  I  know  it! "  said  she.  "  He 
wounds  me  whenever  he  can;  and  though  his  wounds  are 
made  only  with  pins,  that  comes  only  from  this,  that  he  is 
afraid  that  you  might  discover  it  if  he  drew  a  dagger  on 
me,  whilst  you  might  not  notice  the  pin  with  which  he 
secretly  wounds  me.  And  what  was  his  coming  here  to- 
day other  than  a  new  assault  on  me?  He  knows  very  well 
— and  I  have  never  made  a  secret  of  it — that  I  am  an 
enemy  to  this  Eoman  Catholic  religion  the  pope  of  which 
has  dared  to  hurl  his  ban  against  my  lord  and  husband; 
26 


394:  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

and  that  I  seek  with  lively  interest  to  be  instructed  as  to 
the  doctrine  and  religion  of  the  so-called  reformers." 

"  They  say  that  you  are  a  heretic,"  said  the  king, 
gravely. 

"  Gardiner  says  that!  But  if  I  am  so,  you  are  so  too, 
my  king;  for  your  belief  is  mine.  If  I  am  so,  so  too  is 
Cranmer,  the  noble  Archbishop  of  Canterbury;  for  he  is 
my  spiritual  adviser  and  helper.  But  Gardiner  wishes 
that  I  were  a  heretic,  and  he  wants  me  likewise  to  appear 
so  to  you.  See,  my  husband,  why  it  was  that  he  laid  those 
eight  death-warrants  before  you  awhile  ago.  There  were 
eight,  all  heretics,  whom  you  were  to  condemn — not  a 
single  papist  among  them;  and  yet  I  know  that  the  prisons 
are  full  of  papists,  who,  in  the  fanaticism  of  their  perse- 
cuted faith,  have  spoken  words  just  as  worthy  of  punish- 
ment as  those  unfortunate  ones  whom  you  were  to-day  to 
send  from  life  to  death  by  a  stroke  of  your  pen.  Sire,  I 
should  have  prayed  you  just  as  fervently,  just  as  sup- 
pliantly,  had  they  been  papists  whom  you  were  to  sentence 
to  death!  But  Gardiner  wanted  a  proof  of  my  heresy; 
and  therefore  he  selected  eight  heretics,  for  whom  I  was 
to  oppose  your  hard  decree." 

"  It  is  true,"  said  the  king,  thoughtfully;  "  there  was 
not  a  single  papist  among  them!  But  tell  me,  Kate — are 
you  really  a  heretic,  and  an  adversary  of  your  king?  " 

With  a  sweet  smile  she  looked  deep  into  his  eyes,  and 
humbly  crossed  her  arms  over  her  beautiful  breast. 
"  Your  adversary! "  whispered  she.  "  Are  you  not  my 
husband  and  my  lord?  Was  not  the  woman  made  to  be 
eubject  to  the  man?  The  man  was  created  after  the  like- 
ness of  God,  and  the  woman  after  the  likeness  of  man.  So 
the  woman  is  only  the  man's  second  self;  and  he  must 
have  compassion  on  her  in  love;  and  he  must  give  her  of 
his  spirit,  and  influence  her  understanding  from  his  under- 
standing. Therefore  your  duty  is  to  instruct  me,  my 
husband;  and  mine  is,  to  learn  of  you.  And  of  all  the 
women  in  the  world,  to  no  one  is  this  duty  made  ?o  easy 


HEXRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  395 

as  to  me;  for  God  has  been  gracious  to  me  and  given  me 
as  my  husband  a  king  whose  prudence,  wisdom,  and  learn- 
ing are  the  wonder  of  all  the  world."  * 

"What  a  sweet  little  flatterer  you  are,  Kate!"  said 
the  king,  with  a  smile;  "  and  with  what  a  charming  voice 
you  want  to  conceal  the  truth  from  us!  The  truth  is,  that 
you  yourself  are  a  very  learned  little  body,  who  has  no 
need  at  all  to  learn  anything  from  others,  but  who  would 
be  well  able  to  instruct  others."  f 

"  Oh,  if  it  is  so,  as  you  say,"  cried  Catharine,  "  well, 
then  would  I  teach  the  whole  world  to  love  my  king  as  I 
do,  and  to  be  subject  to  him  in  humility,  faithfulness,  and 
obedience,  as  I  am." 

And  as  she  thus  spoke,  she  threw  both  her  arms  about 
the  king's  neck,  and  leaned  her  head  with  a  languishing 
expression  upon  his  breast. 

The  king  kissed  her,  and  pressed  her  fast  to  his  heart. 
He  thought  no  longer  of  the  danger  that  was  hovering  over 
Catharine's  head;  he  thought  only  that  he  loved  her.  and 
that  life  would  be  very  desolate,  very  tedious  and  sad  with- 
out her. 

"  And  now,  my  husband,"  said  Catharine,  gently  disen- 
gaging herself  from  him — "  now,  since  I  have  confessed  to 
you  and  received  absolution  from  you — now  let  us  go  down 
into  the  garden,  so  that  God's  bright  sun  may  shine  into 
our  hearts  fresh  and  glad.  Come,  my  husband,  your  chair 
is  ready;  and  the  bees  and  the  butterflies,  the  gnats  and 
the  flies,  have  already  practised  a  hymn,  with  which  they 
are  going  to  greet  you,  my  husband." 

Laughing  and  jesting,  she  drew  him  along  to  the  ad- 
joining room,  where  the  courtiers  and  the  rolling-chair 
were  standing  ready;  and  the  king  mounted  his  triumphal 
car,  and  allowed  himself  to  be  rolled  through  the  carpeted 

*  The  queen's  own  words,  as  they  have  been  given  by  all  historical 
writers.  See  on  this  point  Burnet,  vol.  i,  p.  84;  Tytler,  p.  413;  Lar- 
rey's  "Histoire  d'Angleterre,"  vol.  ii,  p.  201;  Leti,  vol.  i,  p.  154. 

f  Historical.     The  king's  own  words. 


396  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COUKT. 

corridors,  and  down  the  staircases,  transformed  into  broad 
inclined  planes  of  marble,  into  the  garden. 

The  air  had  the  freshness  of  winter  and  the  warmth  of 
spring.  The  grass  like  a  diligent  weaver  was  already  be- 
ginning to  weave  a  carpet  over  the  black  level  of  the 
square;  and  already  here  and  there  a  tiny  blossom,  curious 
and  bashful,  was  peeping  out  and  appeared  to  be  smiling 
in  astonishment  at  its  own  premature  existence.  The  sun 
seemed  so  warm  and  bright;  the  heavens  were  so  blue! 
At  the  king's  side  went  Catharine,  with  such  rosy  cheeks 
and  sparkling  eyes.  Those  eyes  were  always  directed 
to  her  husband;  and  her  charming  prattle  was  to  the 
king  like  the  melodious  song  of  birds,  and  made  his 
heart  leap  for  pleasure  and  delight.  But  how?  What 
noise  all  at  once  drowned  Catharine's  sweet  prattle? 
And  what  was  it  that  flashed  up  there  at  the  end  of  that 
large  alley  which  the  royal  pair  with  their  suite  had  just 
entered? 

It  was  the  noise  of  soldiers  advancing;  and  shining  hel- 
mets and  coats-of-mail  flashed  in  the  sunlight. 

One  band  of  soldiers  held  the  outlet  from  the  alley; 
another  advanced  up  it  in  close  order.  At  their  head  were 
seen  striding  along  Gardiner  and  Earl  Douglas,  and  at 
their  side  the  lieutenant  of  the  Tower. 

The  king's  countenance  assumed  a  lowering  and  angry 
expression  and  his  cheeks  were  suffused  with  crimson. 
With  the  quickness  of  youth  he  rose  from  his  chair,  and, 
raised  to  his  full  height,  he  looked  with  flaming  eyes  at 
The  procession. 

The  queen  seized  his  hand  and  pressed  it  to  her  breast. 
"  Ah,"  said  she,  with  a  low  whisper,  "  protect  me,  my  hus- 
band, for  fear  already  overpowers  me  again!  It  is  my 
enemy — it  is  Gardiner — that  comes,  and  I  tremble." 

"  You  shall  no  longer  tremble  before  him,  Kate! "  said 
the  king.  "  Woe  to  them,  that  dare  make  King  Henry's 
consort  tremble!  I  will  speak  with  Gardiner." 

And  almost  roughly  pushing  aside  the  queen,  the  king, 


HENRY    VIH.    AND   HIS    COURT.  397 

utterly  heedless  in  his  violent  excitement  of  the  pain  of  his 
foot,  went  in  a  quick  pace  to  meet  the  advancing  troop. 

He  ordered  them  by  his  gesture  to  halt,  and  called 
Gardiner  and  Douglas  to  him.  "What  want  you  here?  And 
what  means  this  strange  array?  "  asked  he,  in  a  rough  tone. 

The  two  courtiers  stared  at  him  with  looks  of  amaze- 
ment, and  durst  not  answer  him. 

"  Well!  "  asked  the  king,  with  ever-rising  wrath,  "  will 
you  at  length  tell  me  by  what  right  you  intrude  into  my 
garden  with  an  armed  host — specially  at  the  same  hour 
that  I  am  here  with  my  consort?  Verily,  there  is  no  suffi- 
cient excuse  for  such  a  gross  violation  of  the  reverence 
which  you  owe  your  king  and  master;  and  I  marvel,  my 
lord  master  of  ceremonies,  that  you  did  not  seek  to  pre- 
vent this  indecorum! " 

Earl  Douglas  muttered  a  few  words  of  apology,  which 
the  king  did  not  understand,  or  did  not  want  to  under- 
stand. 

"  The  duty  of  a  master  of  ceremonies  Is  to  protect  his 
king  from  every  annoyance,  and  you,  Earl  Douglas,  offer 
it  to  me  yourself.  Perchance  you  want  thereby  to  show 
that  you  are  weary  of  your  office.  Well,  then,  my  lord,  I 
dismiss  you  from  it,  and  that  your  presence  may  not  re- 
mind me  of  this  morning's  transaction,  you  will  leave  the 
court  and  London!  Farewell,  my  lord!  " 

Earl  Douglas,  turning  pale  and  trembling,  staggered  a 
few  steps  backward,  and  gazed  at  the  king  with  astonish- 
ment. He  wanted  to  speak,  but  Henry,  with  a  command- 
ing wave  of  the  hand,  bade  him  be  silent. 

"And  now  for  you,  my  lord  bishop!"  said  the  king, 
and  his  eyes  were  turned  on  Gardiner  with  an  expression 
so  wrathful  and  contemptuous,  that  he  turned  pale  and 
looked  down  to  the  ground.  "  What  means  this  strange 
train  with  which  the  priest  of  God  approaches  his  royal 
master  to-day?  And  under  what  impulse  of  Christian 
love  are  you  going  to  hold  to-day  a  heretic  hunt  in  the 
garden  of  your  king?  " 


39S  HEXRY    VIIT.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

"Sire,"  said  Gardiner,  completely  beside  himself, 
"  your  majesty  well  knows  why  I  come;  it  was  at  your 
majesty's  command  that  I  with  Earl  Douglas  and  the 
lieutenant  of  the  Tower  came,  in  order  to — 

"  Dare  not  to  speak  further! "  yelled  the  king,  who 
became  still  more  angry  because  Gardiner  would  not 
understand  him  and  comprehend  the  altered  state  of  his 
mind.  "  How  dare  you  make  a  pretence  of  my  commands, 
whilst  I,  full  of  just  amazement,  question  you  as  to  the 
cause  of  your  appearance?  That  is  to  say,  you  want  to 
charge  your  king  with  falsehood.  You  want  to  excuse 
yourself  by  accusing  me.  Ah,  my  worthy  lord  bishop, 
this  time  you  are  thwarted  in  your  plan,  and  I  disavow 
you  and  your  foolish  attempt.  No!  there  is  nobody  here 
whom  you  shall  arrest;  and,  by  the  holy  mother  of  God, 
were  your  eyes  not  blind,  you  would  have  seen  that  here, 
where  the  king  is  taking  an  airing  with  his  consort,  there 
could  be  no  one  whom  these  catchpolls  had  to  look  for! 
The  presence  of  the  royal  majesty  is  like  the  presence  of 
God;  it  dispenses  happiness  and  peace  about  it;  and  who- 
ever is  touched  by  his  glory,  is  graced  and  sanctified 
thereby." 

"  But,  your  majesty,"  screamed  Gardiner,  whom  anger 
and  disappointed  hope  had  made  forgetful  of  all  considera- 
tions, "you  wanted  me  to  arrest  the  queen;  you  yourself 
gave  me  the  order  for  it;  and  now  when  I  come  to  execute 
your  will — now  you  repudiate  me." 

The  king  uttered  a  yell  of  rage,  and  with  lifted  arm 
moved  some  steps  toward  Gardiner. 

But  suddenly  he  felt  his  arm  held  back.  It  was  Catha- 
rine, who  had  hurried  up  to  the  king.  "  Oh,  my  husband," 
said  she,  in  a  low  whisper,  "  whatever  he  may  have  done, 
spare  him!  Still  he  is  a  priest  of  the  Lord;  and  so  let  his 
sacred  robe  protect  him,  though  perchance  his  deeds  con- 
demn him! " 

"  Ah,  do  you  plead  for  him?  "  cried  the  king.  "  Really, 
my  poor  wife,  you  suspect  not  how  little  ground  you  have 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  399 

to  pity  him,  and  to  beg  my  mercy  for  him.*  But  you  are 
right.  We  will  respect  his  cassock,  and  think  no  more  of 
what  a  haughty  and  intriguing  man  is  wrapped  in  it. — 
But  beware,  priest,  that  you  do  not  again  remind  me  of 
that.  My  wrath  would  then  inevitably  strike  you;  and  I 
should  have  as  little  mercy  for  you  as  you  say  I  ought  to 
show  to  other  evil-doers.  And  inasmuch  as  you  are  a 
priest,  be  penetrated  with  a  sense  of  the  gravity  of  your 
office  and  the  sacredness  of  your  calling.  Your  episcopal 
see  is  at  Winchester,  and  I  think  your  duties  call  you 
thither.  We  no  longer  need  you,  for  the  noble  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury  is  coming  back  to  us,  and  will  have  to  fulfil 
the  duties  of  his  office  near  us  and  the  queen.  Farewell!  " 

He  turned  his  back  on  Gardiner,  and,  supported  on 
Catharine's  arm,  returned  to  his  rolling-chair. 

"  Kate,"  said  he,  "  just  now  a  lowering  cloud  stood  in 
your  sky,  but,  thanks  to  your  smile  and  your  innocent  face, 
it  has  passed  harmlessly  over.  Methinks  we  still  owe  you 
special  thanks  for  this;  and  we  would  like  to  show  you 
that  by  some  office  of  love.  Is  there  nothing  that  would 
give  you  special  delight,  Kate  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  she,  with  fervor.  "  Two  great  desires 
burn  in  my  heart." 

"  Then  name  them,  Kate;  and,  by  the  mother  of  God, 
if  it  is  in  the  power  of  a  king  to  fulfil  them,  I  will  do  it." 

Catharine  seized  his  hand  and  pressed  it  to  her  heart. 
"  Sire,"  said  she,  "  they  wanted  to  have  you  sign  eight- 
death-warrants  to-day.  Oh,  my  husband,  make  of  these 
eight  criminals  eight  happy,  thankful  subjects;  teach 
them  to  love  that  king  whom  they  have  reviled — teach 
their  children,  their  wives  and  mothers  to  pray  for  you, 
whilst  you  restore  life  and  freedom  to  these  fathers,  these 
sons  and  husbands,  and  while  you,  great  and  merciful,  like 
Deity,  pardon  them." 

"So  shall  it  be!"  cried  the  king,  cheerfully.  "Our 
hand  shall  have  to-day  no  other  work  than  to  rest  in  yours: 

*  The  king's  own  words. — See  Leti,  vol.  i,  p.  132. 


40U  HENRY    V11I.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

and  we  will  spare  it  from  making  these  eight  strokes  of  the 
pen.  The  eight  evil-doers  are  pardoned;  and  they  shall 
be  free  this  very  day." 

\Yith  an  exclamation  of  rapturous  delight  Catharine 
pressed  Henry's  hand  to  her  lips,  and  her  face  shone  with 
pure  happiness. 

"And  your  second  wish?"  asked  the  king. 

"  My  second  wish,"  said  she,  with  a  smile,  "  pleads  for 
the  freedom  of  a  poor  prisoner — for  the  freedom  of  a 
human  heart,  sire." 

The  king  laughed.  "A  human  heart?  Does  that 
then  run  about  on  the  street,  so  that  it  can  be  caught  and 
made  a  prisoner  of?  " 

"  Sire,  you  have  found  it,  and  incarcerated  it  in  your 
daughter's  bosom.  You  want  to  put  Elizabeth's  heart  in 
fetters,  and  by  an  unnatural  law  compel  her  to  renounce 
her  freedom  of  choice.  Only  think — to  want  to  bid  a  wom- 
an's heart,  before  she  can  love,  to  inquire  first  about  the 
genealogical  tree,  and  to  look  at  the  coat-of-arms  before 
she  notices  the  man!  " 

"  Oh,  women,  women,  what  foolish  children  you  are, 
though! "  cried  the  king,  laughingly.  "  The  question  is 
about  thrones,  and  you  think  about  your  hearts!  But 
come,  Kate,  you  shall  still  further  explain  that  to  me; 
and  we  will  not  take  back  our  word,  for  we  have  given  it 
you  from  a  free  and  glad  heart." 

He  took  the  queen's  arm,  and,  supported  on  it,  walked 
slowly  up  the  alley  with  her.  The  lords  and  ladies  of  the 
court  followed  them  in  silence  and  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance; and  no  one  suspected  that  this  woman,  who  wa.s 
stepping  along  so  proud  and  magnificent,  had  but  just  now 
rscnped  an  imminent  peril  of  her  life;  that  this  man,  \\bo 
was  leaning  on  her  arm  with  such  devoted  tenderness,  had 
but  a  few  hours  before  resolved  on  her  destruction.* 

*  All  this  plot  instigated  by  Gardiner  apninst  the  queen  is,  in 
minutest  details,  historically  true,  and  is  found  substantially  the 
same  in  all  historical  works. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  401 

And  whilst  chatting  confidentially  together  they  botli 
wandered  through  the  avenues,  two  others  with  drooping 
head  and  pale  face  left  the  royal  castle,  which  was  to  be 
to  them  henceforth  a  lost  paradise.  Sullen  spite  and  rag- 
ing hate  were  in  their  hearts,  but  yet  they  were  obliged  to 
endure  in  silence;  they  were  obliged  to  smile  and  to  seem 
harmless,  in  order  not  to  prepare  a  welcome  feast  for 
the  malice  of  the  court.  They  felt  the  spiteful  looks  of  all 
these  courtiers,  although  they  passed  by  them  with  down- 
cast eyes.  They  imagined  they  heard  their  malicious 
whispers,  their  derisive  laughter;  and  it  pierced  their 
hearts  like  the  stab  of  a  dagger. 

At  length  they  had  surmounted  it — at  length  the  pal- 
ace lay  behind  them,  and  they  were  at  least  free  to  pour 
out  in  words  the  agony  that  consumed  them. — free  to  be 
able  to  break  out  into  bitter  execrations,  into  curses  and 
lamentations. 

"Lost!  all  is  lost!"  said  Earl  Douglas  to  himself  in  a 
hollow  voice.  "  I  am  thwarted  in  all  my  plans.  I  have 
sacrificed  to  the  Church  my  life,  my  means,  ay,  even  my 
daughter,  and  it  has  all  been  in  vain.  And,  like  a  beggar, 
I  now  stand  on  the  street  forsaken  and  without  com- 
fort; and  our  holy  mother  the  Church  will  no  longer 
heed  the  son  who  loved  her  and  sacrificed  himself  for 
her,  since  he  was  so  unfortunate,  and  his  sacrifice  unavail- 
ing." 

"Despair  not!"  said  Gardiner,  solemnly.  "Clouds 
gather  above  us;  but  they  are  dispersed  again.  And  after 
the  day  of  storm,  comes  again  the  day  of  light.  Our  day 
also  will  come,  my  friend.  Now,  we  go  hence,  our  heads 
strewn  with  ashes,  and  bowed  at  heart;  but,  believe  me, 
we  shall  one  day  come  again  with  shining  face  and  ex- 
ultant heart;  and  the  flaming  sword  of  godly  wrath  will 
glitter  in  our  hands,  and  a  purple  robe  will  enfold  us, 
dyed  in  the  blood  of  heretics  whom  we  offer  up  to  the  Lord 
our  God  as  a  well-pleasing  sacrifice.  God  spares  us  for  a 
better  time;  and  our  banishment,  believe  me,  friend,  is 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

but  a  refuge  that  God  has  prepared  for  us  this  evil  time 
which  we  are  approaching." 

"  You  speak  of  an  evil  time,  and  nevertheless  you  hope, 
your  highness?  "  asked  Douglas,  gloomily. 

"  And  nevertheless  I  hope ! "  said  Gardiner,  with  a 
strange  and  horrible  smile,  and,  bending  down  closer  to 
Douglas,  he  whispered:  "  the  king  has  only  a  few  days  more 
to  live.  He  does  not  suspect  how  near  he  is  to  his  death, 
and  nobody  has  the  courage  to  tell  him.  But  his  physician 
has  confided  it  to  me.  His  vital  forces  are  consumed,  and 
death  stands  already  before  his  door  to  throttle  him." 

"  And  when  he  is  dead,"  said  Earl  Douglas,  shrugging 
his  shoulders,  "his  son  Edward  will  be  king,  and  those 
heretical  Seymours  will  control  the  helm  of  state!  Call 
you  that  hope,  your  highness?  " 

"  I  call  it  so." 

"  Do  you  not  know  that  Edward,  young  as  he  is,  is 
nevertheless  a  fanatical  adherent  of  the  heretical  doctrine, 
and  at  the  same  time  a  furious  opponent  of  the  Church  in 
which  alone  is  salvation?  " 

"  I  know  it,  but  I  know  also  that  Edward  is  a  feeble 
boy;  and  there  is  current  in  our  Church  a  holy  prophecy 
which  predicts  that  his  reign  is  only  of  short  duration. 
God  only  knows  what  his  death  will  be,  but  the  Church 
has  often  before  seen  her  enemies  die  a  sudden  death. 
Death  has  been  often  before  this  the  most  effective  ally  of 
our  holy  mother  the  Church.  Believe  me,  then,  my  son, 
and  hope,  for  I  tell  you  Edward's  rule  will  be  of  short 
duration.  And  after  him  she  will  ascend  the  throne,  the 
noble  and  devout  Mary,  the  rigid  Catholic,  who  hates  here- 
tics as  much  as  Edward  loves  them.  Oh,  friend,  when 
Mary  ascends  the  throne,  we  shall  rise  from  our  humilia- 
tion, and  the  dominion  will  be  ours.  Then  will  all  Eng- 
land become,  as  it  were,  a  single  great  temple,  and  the 
fagot-piles  about  the  stake  are  the  altars  on  which  we  will 
consume  the  heretics,  and  their  shrieks  of  agony  are  the 
holy  psalms  which  we  will  make  them  strike  up  to  the 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COUHT.  403 

hoiior  of  God  and  His  holy  Church.  Hope  for  this  time, 
for  I  tell'  you  it  will  soon  come." 

"  If  you  say  so,  your  highness,  then  it  will  come  to 
pass,"  said  Douglas,  significantly.  "  I  will  then  hope  and 
wait.  I  will  save  myself  from  evil  days  in  Scotland,  and 
wait  for  the  good." 

"  And  I  go,  as  this  king  by  the  wrath  of  God  h:-.s  com- 
manded, to  my  episcopal  seat.  The  wrath  of  God  will 
soon  call  Henry  hence.  May  his  dying  hour  be  full  of  tor- 
ment, and  may  the  Holy  Father's  curse  be  realized  and  ful- 
filled in  him!  Farewell!  \Ve  go  with  palms  of  peace 
forced  on  us;  but  we  will  return  with  the  flaming  sword, 
and  our  hands  will  be  dripping  with  heretic  blood." 

They  once  more  shook  hands  and  silently  departed,  and 
before  evening  came  on  they  had  both  left  London.* 

*  Gardiner's  prophecy  was  soon  fulfilled.  A  few  days  after  Gardi- 
ner had  fallen  into  disgrace  Henry,  the  Eighth  died,  and  his  son 
Edward,  yet  a  minor,  ascended  the  throne.  But  his  rule  was  of  brief 
duration.  After  a  reign  of  scarcely  six  years,  he  died  a  youth  of 
the  age  of  sixteen  years,  and  his  sister  Mary,  called  the  Catholic, 
ascended  the  throne.  Her  first  act  was  to  release  Gardiner,  who 
under  Edward's  reign  had  been  confined  as  a  prisoner  in  the  Tower, 
and  to  appoint  him  her  minister,  and  later,  to  the  place  of  lord 
chancellor.  He  was  one  of  the  most  furious  persecutors  of  the 
Reformers.  Once  he  said  at  a  council  in  the  presence  of  the  bigoted 
queen:  "These  heretics  have  a  soul  so  black  that  it  can  be  washed 
clean  only  in  their  own  blood."  He  it  was,  too,  who  urged  the 
queen  to  such  severe  and  odious  measures  against  the  Princess 
Elizabeth,  and  caused  her  to  be  a  second  time  declared  a  bastard 
and  unworthy  of  succeeding  to  the  throne.  When  Mary  died, 
Gardiner  performed,  in  Westminster  Abbey,  where  she  was  en- 
tombed, the  service  for  the  dead  in  the  presence  of  her  successor, 
Queen  Elizabeth.  Gardiner's  discourse  was  an  enthusiastic  eulogium 
of  the  deceased  queen,  and  he  set  forth,  as  her  special  merit,  that  she 
hated  the  heretics  so  ardenily  and  had  so  many  of  them  executed. 
He  closed  with  an  invective  against  the  Protestants,  in  which  he  so 
little  spared  the  young  queen,  and  spoke  of  her  in  such  injurious 
terms,  that  he  was  that  very  day  committed  to  prison. — Leti.  vol.  i, 
p.  314. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

A  short  time  after  this  eventful  walk  in  the  garden 
of  Whitehall,  the  queen  entered  the  apartments  of  the 
Princess  Elizabeth,  who  hastened  to  meet  her  with  a  burst 
of  joy,  and  clasped  her  wildly  in  her  arms. 

"  Saved!  "  whispered  she.  "  The  danger  is  overcome, 
and  again  you  are  the  mighty  queen,  the  adored  wife!  " 

"  And  I  have  you  to  thank  that  I  am  so,  princess! 
Without  that  warrant  of  arrest  which  you  brought  me,  I 
was  lost.  Oh,  Elizabeth,  but  what  a  martyrdom  it  was! 
To  smile  and  jest,  whilst  my  heart  trembled  with  dread 
and  horror;  to  appear  innocent  and  unembarrassed,  whilst 
it  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  heard  already  the  whiz  of  the  axe 
that  was  about  to  strike  my  neck!  Oh,  my  God,  I  passed 
through  the  agonies  and  the  dread  of  a  whole  lifetime  in 
that  one  hour!  My  soul  has  been  harassed  till  it  is  wea- 
ried to  death,  and  my  strength  is  exhausted.  I  could  weep, 
weep  continually  over  this  wretched,  deceitful  world,  in 
which  to  wish  right  and  to  do  good  avail  nothing;  but  in 
which  you  must  dissemble  and  lie,  deceive  and  disguise 
yourself,  if  you  do  not  want  to  fall  a  victim  to  wickedness 
and  mischief.  But  ah,  Elizabeth,  even  my  tears  I  dare 
shed  only  in  secret,  for  a  queen  has  no  right  to  be  melan- 
choly. She  must  seem  ever  cheerful,  ever  happy  and  con- 
tented; and  only  God  and  the  still/*  silent  night  know  her 
sighs  and  her  tears." 

"  And  you  may  let  me  also  see  them,  queen,"  said 
Elizabeth,  heartily;  "for  you  well  know  you  may  trust 
and  rely  on  me." 

Catharine  kissed  her  fervently.  "You  have  done  me 
a  great  service  to-day,  and  I  have  come,"  said  she,  "  to 
thank  you,  not  with  sounding  words  only,  but  by  deeds. 
Elizabeth,  your  wish  will  be  fulfilled.  The  king  will  re- 
peal the  law  which  was  to  compel  you  to  give  your  hand 
only  to  a  husband  of  equal  birth." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Elizabeth,  with  flashing  eyes,  "  then  I 
shall,  perhaps,  some  day  be  able  to  make  him  whom  I  love 
a  king." 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

Catharine  smiled.  "  You  have  a  proud  and  ambitious 
heart/'  said  she.  "  God  has  endowed  you  with  extraor- 
dinary ability.  Cultivate  it  and  seek  to  increase  it;  for 
my  prophetic  heart  tells  me  that  you  are  destined  to  be- 
come, one  day,  Queen  of  England.*  But  who  knows 
whether  then  you  will  still  wish  to  elevate  him  whom  you 
now  love,  to  be  your  husband?  A  queen,  as  you  will  be, 
sees  with  other  eyes  than  those  of  a  young,  inexperienced 
maiden.  Perchance  I  may  not  have  done  right  in  moving 
the  king  to  altar  this  law;  for  I  am  not  acquainted  with 
the  man  that  you  love;  and  who  knows  whether  he  is 
worthy  that  you  should  bestow  on  him  your  heart,  so  inno- 
cent and  pure?" 

Elizabeth  threw  both  her  arms  about  Catharine's  neck, 
and  clung  tenderly  to  her.  "  Oh,"  said  she,  "  he  would 
be  worthy  to  be  loved  even  by  you,  Catharine;  for  he  is 
the  noblest  and  handsomest  cavalier  in  the  whole  world; 
and  though  he  is  no  king,  yet  he  is  a  king's  brother-in- 
law,  and  will  some  day  be  a  king's  uncle." 

Catharine  felt  her  heart,  as  it  were,  convulsed,  and  a 
slight  tremor  ran  through  her  frame.  "  And  am  I  not  to 
learn  his  name?"  asked  she. 

"  Yes,  I  will  tell  you  it  now;  for  now  there  is  no 
longer  danger  in  knowing  it.  The  name  of  him  whom  I 
love,  queen,  is  Thomas  Seymour." 

Catharine  uttered  a  scream,  and  pushed  Elizabeth  pas- 
sionately away  from  her  heart.  "  Thomas  Seymour? " 
cried  she,  in  a  menacing  tone.  "  What!  do  you  dare  love 
Thomas  Seymour?" 

"  And  why  should  I  not  dare  ?  "  asked  the  young  girl 
in  astonishment.  "  Why  should  I  not  give  him  my  heart, 
since,  thanks  to  your  intercession,  I  am  no  longer  bound  to 
choose  a  husband  of  equal  birth  ?  Is  not  Thomas  Seymour 
one  of  the  first  of  this  land?  Does  not  all  England  look 
on  him  with  pride  and  tenderness?  Does  not  every  wom- 
an to  whom  he  deigns  a  look,  feel  herself  honored?  Does 

*  Catharine's  own  words. — See  Leti,  vol.  i,  p.  172. 


406  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

not  the  king  himself  smile  and  feel  more  pleased  at  heart, 
when  Thomas  Seymour,  that  young,  bold,  and  spirited 
hero,  stands  by  his  side?  " 

"You  are  right!"  said  Catharine,  whose  heart  every 
one  of  these  enthusiastic  words  lacerated  like  the  stab  of  a 
dagger — "yes,  you  are  right.  He  is  worthy  of  being 
loved  by  you — and  you  could  hit  upon  no  better  choice. 
It  was  only  the  first  surprise  that  made  me  see  things 
otherwise  than  they  are.  Thomas  Seymour  is  the  brother 
of  a  queen:  why  then  should  he  not  also  be  the  husband 
of  a  royal  princess?  " 

With  a  bashful  blush,  Elizabeth  hid  her  smiling  face  in 
Catharine's  bosom.  She  did  not  see  with  what  an  expres- 
sion of  alarm  and  agony  the  queen  observed  her;  how  her 
lips  were  convulsively  compressed,  and  her  cheeks  covered 
with  a  death-like  pallor. 

"  And  he?  "  asked  she,  in  a  low  tone.  "  Does  Thomas 
Seymour  love  you?" 

Elizabeth  raised  her  head  and  looked  at  the  questioner 
in  amazement  "  How!  "  said  she.  "  Is  it  possible,  then, 
to  love,  if  you  are  not  loved?  " 

"  You  are  right,"  sighed  Catharine.  "  One  must  be 
very  humble  and  silly  to  be  able  to  do  that." 

"  My  God!  how  pale  you  are,  queen!  "  cried  Elizabeth, 
who  just  now  noticed  Catharine's  pale  face.  "  Your  fea- 
tures are  distorted;  your  lips  tremble.  My  God!  what 
does  this  mean?" 

"  It  is  nothing! "  said  Catharine,  with  a  smile  full  of 
agony.  "  The  excitement  and  alarm  of  to-day  have  ex- 
hausted my  strength.  That  is  all.  Besides,  a  iu-\v  grief 
threatens  us,  of  which  you  as  yet  know  nothing.  The 
king  is  ill.  A  sudden  dizziness  seized  him,  and  made  him 
fall  almost  lifeless  at  my  side.  I  came  to  bring  you  the 
king's  message;  now  duty  calls  me  to  my  husband's  sick- 
bed. Farewell,  Elizabeth." 

She  waved  a  good-by  to  her  with  her  hand,  and  with 
hurried  step  left  the  room.  She  summoned  up  courage  to 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT.  407 

conceal  the  agonies  of  her  soul,  and  to  pass  proud  and 
stately  through  the  halls.  To  the  courtiers  bowing  be- 
fore her,  she  would  still  be  the  queen,  and  no  one  should 
suspect  what  agony  was  torturing  her  within  like  flames 
of  fire.  But  at  last  arrived  at  her  boudoir — at  last  sure 
of  being  overheard  and  observed  by  no  one — she  was  no 
longer  the  queen,  but  only  the  agonized,  passionate 
woman. 

She  sank  on  her  knees,  and  cried,  with  a  heart-rending 
wail  of  anguish:  "  My  God,  my  God,  grant  that  I  may 
become  mad,  so  that  I  may  no  longer  know  that  he  has 
forsaken  me! " 


CHAPTEE   XXXVI. 

THE   CATASTROPHE. 

AFTER  days  of  secret  torture  and  hidden  tears,  after 
nights  of  sobbing  anguish  and  wailing  sorrow,  Catharine 
had  at  last  attained  to  inward  peace;  she  had  at  last  taken 
a  firm  and  decisive  resolution. 

The  king  was  sick  unto  death;  and  however  much  she 
had  suffered  and  endured  from  him,  still  he  was  her  hus- 
band; and  she  would  not  stand  by  his  deathbed  as  a  per- 
jured and  deceitful  woman;  she  would  not  be  constrained 
to  cast  down  her  eyes  before  the  failing  gaze  of  the  dying 
king.  She  would  renounce  her  love — that  love,  which, 
however,  had  been  as  pure  and  chaste  as  a  maiden's  prayer 
— that  love,  which  was  as  unapproachably  distant  as  the 
blush  of  morn,  and  yet  had  stood  above  her  so  vast  and 
brilliant,  and  had  irradiated  the  gloomy  pathway  of  her 
life  with  celestial  light. 

She  would  make  the  greatest  of  sacrifices;  she  would 
give  her  lover  to  another.  Elizabeth  loved  him.  Catha- 
rine would  not  investigate  and  thoroughly  examine  the 


408  HENRY    Vni.   AND   HIS   COURT. 

point,  whether  Thomas  Seymour  returned  her  love,  and 
whether  the  oath  he  had  taken  to  her,  the  queen,  was 
really  nothing  more  than  a  fancy  of  the  brain,  or  a  false- 
hood. No,  she  did  not  believe  it;  she  did  not  believe  that 
Thomas  Seymour  was  capable  of  treachery,  of  double-deal- 
ing. But  Elizabeth  loved  him;  and  she  was  young  and 
beautiful,  and  a  great  future  lay  before  her.  Catharine 
loved  Thomas  Seymour  strongly  enough  not  to  want  to 
deprive  him  of  this  future,  but  gladly  to  present  herself 
a  sacrifice  to  the  happiness  of  her  lover.  What  was  she 
— the  woman  matured  in  grief  and  suffering — in  com- 
parison with  this  youthful  and  fresh  blossom,  Elizabeth? 
What  had  she  to  offer  her  beloved  further  than  a  life  of 
retirement,  of  love,  and  of  quiet  happiness?  When  once 
the  king  is  dead  and  sets  her  free,  Edward  the  Sixth 
ascends  the  throne;  and  Catharine  then  is  nothing  more 
than  the  forgotten  and  disregarded  widow  of  a  king;  while 
Elizabeth,  the  king's  sister,  may  perhaps  bring  a  crown  as 
her  dower  to  him  whom  she  loves. 

Thomas  Seymour  was  ambitious.  Catharine  knew 
that.  A  day  might  come  when  he  would  repent  of  having 
chosen  the  widow  of  a  king  instead  of  the  heiress  to  a 
throne. 

Catharine  would  anticipate  that  day.  She  would  of 
her  own  free-will  resign  her  lover  to  Princess  Elizabeth. 
She  had  by  a  struggle  brought  her  mind  to  this  sacrifice; 
she  had  pressed  her  hands  firmly  on  her  heart,  so  as  not 
to  hear  how  it  wailed  and  wept. 

She  went  to  Elizabeth,  and  said  to  her  with  a  sweet 
smile:  "To-day  I  will  bring  your  lover  to  you,  princess. 
The  king  has  fulfilled  his  promise.  He  has  to-day  with 
his  last  dying  strength  signed  this  act,  which  gives  you  lib- 
erty to  choose  your  husband,  not  from  the  ranks  of  princes 
alone,  but  to  follow  your  own  heart  in  your  choice.  I  will 
give  this  act  to  your  lover,  and  assure  him  of  my  assist- 
ance and  aid.  The  king  is  suffering  very  much  to-day, 
and  his  consciousness  fails  more  and  more.  But  be  cer- 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  4Q9 

tain,  if  he  is  in  a  condition  to  hear  me,  I  will  spend  all  my 
powers  of  persuasion  in  inclining  him  to  your  wish,  and  in 
moving  him  to  give  his  consent  to  your  marriage  with 
Karl  Sudley.  I  now  go  to  receive  the  earl.  So  tarry  in 
your  room,  princess,  for  Seymour  will  soon  come  to  bring 
you  the  act." 

Whilst  she  thus  spoke,  it  seemed  to  her  as  though  her 
heart  were  pierced  hy  red-hot  daggers;  as  though  a  two- 
edged  sword  were  cleaving  her  breast.  But  Catharine 
had  a  strong  and  courageous  soul.  She  had  sworn  to  her- 
self to  endure  this  torture  to  the  end;  and  she  endured  it. 
No  writhing  of  her  lips,  no  sigh,  no  outcry,  betrayed  the 
pain  that  she  was  suffering.  And  if,  indeed,  her  cheeks 
were  pale,  and  her  eye  dim,  they  were  so  because  she  had 
spent  nights  watching  by  her  husband's  sick-bed,  and  be- 
cause she  was  mourning  for  the  dying  king. 

She  had  the  heroism  to  embrace  tenderly  this  young 
maiden  to  whom  she  was  just  going  to  present  her  love  as  a  . 
sacrifice,  and  to  listen  with  a  smile  to  the  enthusiastic 
Avords  of  gratitude,  of  rapture  and  expectant  happiness 
which  Elizabeth  addressed  to  her. 

With  tearless  eyes  and  firm  step  she  returned  to  her 
own  apartments;  and  her  voice  did  not  at  all  tremble,  as 
she  bade  the  chamberlain  in  attendance  to  summon  to  her 
the  master  of  horse,  Earl  Sudley.  Only  she  had  a  feeling 
as  though  her  heart  was  broken  and  crushed;  and  quite 
softly,  quite  humbly,  she  whispered:  "  I  shall  die  when  he 
is  gone.  But  so  long  as  he  is  here,  I  will  live;  and  he  shall 
not  have  a  suspicion  of  what  I  suffer!  " 

And  while  Catharine  suffered  so  dreadfully,  Elizabeth 
was  jubilant  with  delight  and  rapture;  for  at  last  she 
stood  at  the  goal  of  her  wishes,  and  this  very  day  she  was 
to  become  the  betrothed  of  her  lover.  Oh,  how  slow  and 
sluggish  crept  those  minutes  along!  How  many  eterni- 
ties had  she  still  to  wait  before  he  would  come — he,  her 
lover,  and  soon  her  husband!  Was  he  already  with  the 
queen?  Could  she  expect  him  already?  She  stood  as  if 
27 


HENRY    VITT.    AND    ITTS    COURT. 

spellbound  at  the  window,  and  looked  down  into  the  court- 
yard. Through  that  great  gateway  over  there  he  must 
come;  through  that  door  yonder  he  must  go,  in  order  to 
reach  the  queen's  apartments. 

She  uttered  an  exclamation,  and  a  glowing  blush  flitted 
across  her  face.  There,  there,  he  was.  Yonder  drew  up 
his  equipage;  his  gold-laced  lackeys  opened  the  door  and 
he  alighted.  How  handsome  he  was,  and  how  magnificent 
to  look  upon!  How  noble  and  proud  his  tall  figure!  How 
regularly  beautiful  his  fresh,  youthful  face!  How  saucy 
the  haughty  smile  about  his  mouth;  and  how  his  eyes 
flamed  and  flashed  and  shone  in  wantonness  and  youthful 
happiness.  His  look  glanced  for  a  moment  at  Elizabeth's 
window.  He  saluted  her,  and  then  entered  the  door 
leading  to  the  wing  of  the  palace  of  Whitehall  occu- 
pied by  the  queen.  Elizabeth's  heart  beat  so  violently 
that  she  felt  almost  suffocated.  Now  he  must  have 
reached  the  great  staircase — now  he  was  above  it — now  he 
was  entering  the  queen's  apartments — he  traverses  the 
first,  the  second,  the  third  chamber.  In  the  fourth  Catha- 
rine was  waiting  for  him. 

Elizabeth  would  have  given  a  year  of  her  life  to  hear 
what  Catharine  would  say  to  him,  and  what  reply  he  would 
make  to  the  surprising  intelligence — a  year  of  her  life  to 
be  able  to  see  his  rapture,  his  astonishment,  and  his  de- 
light. He  was  so  handsome  when  he  smiled,  so  bewitch- 
ing when  his  eyes  blazed  with  love  and  pleasure. 

Elizabeth  was  a  young,  impulsive  child.  She  had  a 
feeling  as  if  she  must  suffocate  in  the  agony  of  expectation; 
her  heart  leaped  into  her  mouth;  her  breath  was  stifled  in 
her  breast,  she  was  so  impatient  for  happiness. 

"  Oh,  if  he  does  not  come  soon  I  shall  die!  "  murmured 
she.  "  Oh,  if  I  could  only  at  least  see  him,  or  only  hear 
him! "  All  at  once  she  stopped;  her  eyes  flashed  up,  and 
a  bewitching  smile  flitted  across  her  features.  "  Yes," 
said  she,  "  I  will  see  him,  and  I  will  hear  him.  I  can  do 
it,  and  I  will  do  it.  I  have  the  key  which  the  queen  gave 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  4H 

me,  and  which  opens  the  door  that  separates  my  rooms 
from  hers.  With  that  key  I  may  reach  her  bed-chamber, 
and  next  to  the  bed-chamber  is  her  boudoir,  in  which, 
without  doubt,  she  will  receive  the  earl.  I  will  enter 
quite  softly,  and,  hiding  myself  behind  the  hanging  which 
separates  the  bed-chamber  from  the  boudoir,  I  shall  be 
able  to  see  him,  and  hear  everything  that  he  says!  " 

She  laughed  out  loud  and  merrily,  like  a  child,  and 
sprang  for  the  key,  which  lay  on  her  writing-table.  Like 
a  trophy  of  victory  she  swung  it  high  above  her  on  her 
hand  and  cried,  "  I  will  see  him! "  Then  light,  joyful, 
and  with  beaming  eye,  she  left  the  room. 

She  had  conjectured  rightly.  Catharine  received  the 
earl  in  her  boudoir.  She  sat  on  the  divan  standing  oppo- 
site the  door  which  led  into  the  reception-room.  That 
door  was  open,  and  so  Catharine  had  a  perfect  view  of  the 
whole  of  that  large  space.  She  could  see  the  earl  as  he 
traversed  it.  She  could  once  more  enjoy,  with  a  rapture 
painfully  sweet,  his  proud  beauty,  and  let  her  looks  rest 
on  him  with  love  and  adoration.  But  at  length  he  crossed 
the  threshold  of  the  boudoir;  and  now  there  was  an  end  of 
her  happiness,  of  her  sweet  dream,  and  of  her  hopes  and 
her  rapture.  She  was  nothing  more  than  the  queen,  the 
wife  of  a  dying  king;  no  longer  Earl  Seymour's  beloved, 
no  longer  his  future  and  his  happiness. 

She  had  courage  to  greet  him  with  a  smile;  and  her 
voice  did  not  tremble  when  she  bade  him  shut  the  door 
leading  into  the  hall,  and  drop  the  hanging.  He  did  so, 
gazing  at  her  with  looks  of  surprise.  He  did  not  compre- 
hend that  she  dared  give  him  an  interview;  for  the  king 
was  still  alive,  and  even  with  his  tongue  faltering  in  death 
he  might  destroy  them  both. 

Why  did  she  not  wait  till  the  morrow?  On  the  mor- 
row the  king  might  be  already  dead;  and  then  they  could 
see  each  other  without  constraint  and  without  danger. 
Then  was  she  his,  and  naught  could  longer  stand  in  the 
way  between  them  and  happiness.  Now,  when  the  king 


412  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

was  near  his  death — now  he  loved  her  only — he  loved  but 
Catharine.  His  ambition  had  decided  his  heart.  Death 
had  become  the  judge  over  Seymour's  double  affection 
and  divided  heart,  and  with  King  Henry's  death  Eliza- 
beth's star  had  also  paled. 

Catharine  was  the  widow  of  a  king;  and  without  doubt 
this  tender  husband  had  appointed  his  young  and  adored 
wife  Kegent  during  the  minority  of  the  Prince  of  Wales. 
Catharine  then  would  have  still  five  years  of  unlimited 
sway,  of  royal  authority  and  sovereign  power.  If  Catha- 
rine were  his  wife,  then  would  he,  Thomas  Seymour,  share 
this  power;  and  the  purple  robes  of  royalty,  which  rested 
on  her  shoulders,  would  cover  him  also;  and  he  would  help 
her  bear  that  crown  which  doubtless  might  sometimes 
press  heavily  on  her  tender  brow.  He  would,  in  reality, 
be  the  regent,  and  Catharine  would  be  so  only  in  name. 
She,  the  Queen  of  England,  and  he,  king  of  this  queen. 
What  a  proud,  intoxicating  thought  was  that!  And  what 
plans,  what  hopes  might  not  be  twined  with  it!  Five 
years  of  sway — was  not  that  a  time  long  enough  to  under- 
mine the  throne  of  the  royal  boy  and  to  sap  his  authority? 
Who  could  conjecture  whether  the  people,  once  accustomed 
to  the  regency  of  the  queen,  might  not  prefer  to  remain 
under  her  sceptre,  instead  of  committing  themselves  to 
this  feeble  youth?  The  people  must  be  constrained  so  to 
think,  and  to  make  Catharine,  Thomas  Seymour's  wife, 
their  reigning  queen. 

The  king  was  sick  unto  death,  and  Catharine  was, 
without  doubt,  the  regent — perchance  some  day  the  sover- 
eign queen. 

Princess  Elizabeth  was  only  a  poor  princess,  entirely 
without  a  prospect  of  the  throne;  for  before  her  came 
Catharine,  came  Edward,  and  finally  Mary,  Elizabeth's  eld- 
est sister.  Elizabeth  had  not  the  least  prospect  of  the 
throne,  and  Catharine  the  nearest  and  best  founded. 

Thomas  Seymour  pondered  this  as  he  traversed  the 
apartments  of  the  queen;  and  when  he  entered  her  pres- 


HENRY   vm.   AND   HIS   COURT.  413 

ence,  he  had  convinced  himself  that  he  loved  the  queen 
only,  and  that  it  was  she  alone  whom  he  had  always  loved. 

Elizabeth  was  forgotten  and  despised.  She  had  no 
prospect  of  the  throne — why,  then,  should  he  love  her? 

The  queen,  as  we  have  said,  ordered  him  to  shut  the 
door  of  the  boudoir  and  to  drop  the  hanging.  At  the  same 
moment  that  he  did  this,  the  hanging  of  the  opposite  door, 
leading  into  the  sleeping  apartment,  moved — perhaps  only 
the  draught  of  the  closing  door  had  done  it.  Neither  the 
queen  nor  Seymour  noticed  it.  They  were  both  too  much 
occupied  with  themselves.  They  saw  not  how  the  hang- 
ing again  and  again  gently  shook  and  trembled.  They 
saw  not  how  it  was  gently  opened  a  little  in  the  middle; 
nor  did  they  see  the  sparkling  eyes  which  suddenly  peeped 
through  the  opening  in  the  hanging;  nor  suspected  they 
that  it  was  the  Princess  Elizabeth  who  had  stepped  behind 
the  curtain,  the  better  to  see  and  hear  what  was  taking 
place  in  the  boudoir. 

The  queen  had  arisen  and  advanced  a  few  steps  to  meet 
the  earl.  As  she  now  stood  before. him — as  their  eyes  met, 
she  felt  her  courage  sink  and  her  heart  fail. 

She  was  compelled  to  look  down  at  the  floor  to  prevent 
him  from  seeing  the  tears  which  involuntarily  came  into 
her  eyes.  With  a  silent  salutation  she  offered  him  her 
hand.  Thomas  Seymour  pressed  it  impulsively  to  his  lips, 
and  looked  with  passionate  tenderness  into  her  face.  She 
struggled  to  collect  all  her  strength,  that  her  heart  might 
not  betray  itself.  With  a  hurried  movement  she  with- 
drew her  hand  from  him,  and  took  from  the  table  a  roll 
of  paper  containing  the  new  act  of  succession  signed  by 
the  king. 

"My  lord,"  said  she,  "I  have  called  you  hither,  be- 
cause I  would  like  to  intrust  a  commission  to  you.  I  beg 
you  to  carry  this  parchment  to  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  and 
be  pleased  to  deliver  it  to  her.  But  before  you  do  that,  I 
will  make  you  acquainted  with  iti  contents,  This  parch- 
ment contains  a  new  law  relative  to  the  succession,  which 


414  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

has  already  received  the  sanction  of  the  king.  By  virtue 
of  this,  the  royal  princesses  are  no  longer  under  the  neces- 
sity of  uniting  themselves  with  a  husband  who  is  a  sover- 
eign prince,  if  they  wish  to  preserve  their  hereditary  claim 
on  the  throne  unimpaired.  The  king  gives  the  princesses 
the  right  to  follow  their  own  hearts;  and  their  claim  to  the 
succession  is  not  to  suffer  thereby,  if  the  husband  chosen 
is  neither  a  king  nor  a  prince.  That,  my  lord,  is  the  con- 
tents of  this  parchment  which  you  are  to  carry  to  the 
princess,  and  without  doubt  you  will  thank  me  for  making 
you  the  messenger  of  these  glad  tidings." 

"  And  why,"  asked  he,  in  astonishment — "  why  does 
your  majesty  believe  that  this  intelligence  should  fill  me 
with  special  thankfulness?  " 

She  collected  all  her  powers;  she  prayed  to  her  own 
heart  for  strength  and  self-control. 

"  Because  the  princess  has  made  me  the  confidante  of 
her  love,  and  because  I  am  consequently  aware  of  the  ten- 
der tie  which  binds  you  to  her,"  said  she,  gently;  and  she 
felt  that  all  the  blood  had  fled  from  her  cheeks. 

The  earl  looked  into  her  face  in  mute  astonishment. 
Then  his  inquiring  and  searching  glance  swept  all  around 
the  room. 

"We  are  overheard,  then?"  asked  he,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  We  are  not  alone?" 

"We  are  alone,"  said  Catharine,  aloud.  "  Nobody  <;m 
hear  us,  and  God  alone  is  witness  of  our  conversation." 

Elizabeth,  who  stood  behind  the  hanging,  felt  her 
cheeks  glow  with  shame,  and  she  began  to  repent  what  she 
had  done.  But  she  was  nevertheless,  as  it  were,  spell- 
bound to  that  spot.  It  was  certainly  mean  and  unworthy 
of  a  princess  to  eavesdrop,  but  she  was  at  that  time  but  a 
young  girl  who  loved,  and  who  wanted  to  observe  her  lover. 
So  she  stayed;  she  laid  her  hand  on  her  anxiously-throb- 
bing heart,  and  murmured  to  herself:  "  What  will  he  say? 
What  means  this  anxious  dread  that  comes  over  me?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Thomas  Seymour,  in  an  entirely  altered 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  445 

tone,  "  if  we  are  alone,  then  this  mask  which  hides  my  face 
may  fall;  then  the  cuirass  which  binds  my  heart  may  be 
loosened.  Hail,  Catharine,  my  star  and  my  hope!  Xo  one, 
you  say,  hears  us,  save  God  alone;  and  God  knows  our  love, 
and  He  knows  with  what  longing,  and  what  ecstasy,  I  have 
sighed  for  this  hour — for  this  hour,  which  at  length  again 
unites  me  to  you.  My  God,  it  is  an  eternity  since  1  have 
t-een  you,  Catharine;  and  my  heart  thirsted  for  you  as  a 
famishing  man  for  a  refreshing  draught.  Catharine,  my 
beloved,  blessed  be  you,  that  you  have  at  last  called  me  to 
you!" 

He  opened  his  arms  for  her,  but  she  repulsed  him 
sharply.  "  You  are  mistaken  in  the  name,  earl,"  said  she, 
bitterly.  "  You  say  Catharine,  and  mean  Elizabeth!  It 
is  the  princess  that  you  love;  to  Elizabeth  belongs  your 
heart,  and  she  has  devoted  her  heart  to  you.  Oh,  earl,  I 
will  favor  this  love,  and  be  certain  I  will  not  cease  from 
prayer  and  supplication  till  I  have  inclined  the  king  to 
your  wishes,  till  he  has  given  his  consent  to  your  marriage 
with  the  Princess  Elizabeth." 

Thomas  Seymour  laughed.  "  This  is  a  masquerade, 
Catharine;  and  you  still  wear  a  mask  over  your  beautiful 
and  charming  face.  Oh,  away  with  that  mask,  queen!  I 
want  to  behold  you  as  you  are.  I  want  to  see  again  your 
own  beautiful  self;  I  want  to  see  the  woman  who  belongs 
to  me,  and  who  has  sworn  to  be  mine,  and  who  has,  with  a 
thousand  sacred  oaths,  vowed  to  love  me,  to  be  true  to  me, 
and  to  follow  me  as  her  husband  and  her  lord.  Or  how, 
Catharine!  Can  you  have  forgotten  your  oath?  Can  you 
have  become  untrue  to  your  own  heart?  Do  you  want  to 
cast  me  away,  and  throw  me,  like  a  ball  of  which  you  are 
tired,  to  another?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  she,  quite  unconsciously,  "  I — I  can  never 
forget  and  never  be  untrue." 

"  Well,  then,  my  Catharine,  the  bride  and  wife  of  my 
future,  what  then  are  you  speaking  to  me  of  Elizabeth? — 
of  this  little  princess,  who  sighs  for  love  as  the  flower-bud 


416  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

for  the  sun,  and  takes  the  first  man  whom  she  finds  in  her 
way  for  the  sun  after  which  she  pines?  What  care  we  for 
Elizabeth,  my  Catharine?  And  what  have  we  to  do  with, 
that  child  in  this  hour  of  long-wished-for  reunion?  " 

"  Oh,  he  calls  me  a  child!  "  murmured  Elizabeth.  "  I 
am  nothing  but  a  child  to  him!"  And  she  pressed  hen 
hands  on  her  mouth  in  order  to  repress  her  cry  of  anger 
and  anguish,  and  to  prevent  them  from  hearing  her  teeth, 
which  were  chattering  as  though  she  were  in  a  chill. 

With  irresistible  force  Thomas  Seymour  drew  Catha- 
rine into  his  arms.  "  Avoid  me  no  longer,"  said  he,  in 
tender  entreaty.  "  The  hour  has  come  which  is  finally  to 
determine  our  destiny!  The  king  is  at  the  point  of  death, 
and  my  Catharine  will  at  length  be  free — free  to  follow 
her  own  heart.  At  this  hour  I  remind  you  of  your  oath! 
Do  you  remember  still  that  day  when  you  referred  me  to 
this  hour?  Do  you  still  know,  Catharine,  how  you  vowed 
to  be  my  wife  and  to  receive  me  as  the  lord  of  your  future? 
Oh,  my  beloved,  that  crown  which  weighed  down  your 
head  will  soon  be  taken  away.  Now  I  yet  stand  before 
you  as  your  subject,  but  in  a  few  hours  it  will  be  your 
lord  and  your  husband  that  stands  before  you;  and  he  will 
ask:  '  Catharine,  my  wife,  have  you  kept  with  me  the  faith 
you  swore  to  me?  Have  you  been  guiltless  of  perjury  in 
respect  of  your  vows  and  your  love?  Have  you  preserved 
my  honor,  which  is  your  honor  also,  clear  from  every  spot; 
and  can  you,  free  from  guilt,  look  me  in  the  eye?  * '  \ 

He  gazed  at  her  with  proud,  flashing  eyes,  and  before 
his  commanding  look  her  firmness  and  her  pride  melted 
away  like  ice  before  the  sunshine.  Again  he  was  the  mas- 
ter, whose  right  it  was  to  rule  her  heart;  and  she  again  the 
lowly  handmaid,  whose  sweetest  happiness  it  was  to  submit 
and  bow  to  the  will  of  her  lover. 

"  I  can  look  you  frankly  in  the  eye,"  murmured  she, 
"and  no  guilt  burdens  my  conscience.  I  have  loved 
naught  but  you,  and  my  God  only  dwells  near  you  in  my 
heart." 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  417 

Wholly  overcome,  wholly  intoxicated  with  happiness, 
she  leaned  her  head  upon  his  shoulder,  and  as  he  clasped 
her  in  his  arms,  as  he  covered  with  kisses  her  now  unre- 
sisting lips,  she  felt  only  that  she  loved  him  unutterably, 
and  that  there  was  no  happiness  for  her  except  with 
him. 

It  was  a  sweet  dream,  a  moment  of  most  exquisite 
ecstasy.  But  it  was  only  a  moment.  A  hand  was  laid  vio- 
lently on  her  shoulder,  a  hoarse  angry  voice  called  her 
name;  and  as  she  looked  up,  she  encountered  the  wild 
glance  of  Elizabeth,  who  stood  before  her  with  deathly  pale 
cheeks,  with  trembling  lips,  with  expanded  nostrils,  and 
eyes  darting  flashes  of  wrath  and  hatred. 

"  This,  then,  is  the  friendly  service  which  you  swore  to 
me  ?  "  said  she,  gnashing  her  teeth.  "  Did  you  steal  into 
my  confidence,  and  with  scoffing  mouth  spy  out  the  secrets 
of  my  heart,  in  order  to  go  away  and  betray  them  to  your 
paramour?  That  you  might  in  his  arms  ridicule  this  piti- 
able maiden,  who  allowed  herself  for  the  moment  to  b^ 
betrayed  by  her  heart,  and  took  a  felon  for  an  honorable 
man!  Woe,  woe  to  you,  Catharine,  for  I  tell  you  I  will 
have  no  compassion  on  the  adulteress,  who  mocks  at  me. 
and  betrays  my  father!  " 

She  was  raving;  completely  beside  herself  with  anger, 
she  dashed  away  the  hand  which  Catharine  laid  on  her 
shoulder,  and  sprang  back  from  the  touch  of  her  enemy 
like  an  irritated  lioness. 

Her  father's  blood  fumed  and  raged  within  her,  and,  a 
true  daughter  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  she  concealed  in  her 
heart  only  bloodthirsty  and  revengeful  thoughts. 

She  cast  on  Thomas  Seymour  a  look  of  dark  wrath,  and 
a  contemptuous  smile  played  about  her  lips.  "  My  lord," 
said  she,  "  you  have  called  me  a  child  who  allows  herself  to 
be  easily  deceived,  because  she  longs  so  much  for  the 
sun  and  for  happiness.  You  are  right:  I  was  a  child;  and 
I  was  foolish  enough  to  take  a  miserable  liar  for  a  noble- 
man, who  was  worthy  of  the  proud  fortune  of  being  loved 


418  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS    COURT. 

by  a  king's  daughter.  Yes,  you  are  right;  that  was  a 
childish  dream.  Thanks  to  you,  I  have  now  awoke  from 
it;  and  you  have  matured  the  child  into  a  woman,  who 
laughs  at  the  folly  of  her  youth,  and  despises  to-day  what 
she  adored  yesterday.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  you; 
and  you  are  even  too  insignificant  and  too  contemptible 
for  my  anger.  But  I  tell  you,  you  have  played  a  hazard- 
ous game,  and  you  will  lose.  You  courted  a  queen  and  a 
princess,  and  you  will  gain  neither  of  them:  not  the  one, 
for  she  despises  you;  not  the  other,  for  she  ascends  the 
scaffold!" 

With  a  wild  laugh  she  was  hurrying  to  the  door,  but 
Catharine  with  a  strong  hand  held  her  back  and  compelled 
her  to  remain.  "  What  are  you  going  to  do?  "  asked  she, 
with  perfect  calmness  and  composure. 

"  What  am  I  going  to  do?  "  asked  Elizabeth,  her  eyes 
flashing  like  those  of  a  lioness.  "  You  ask  me  what  I  will 
do?  I  will  go  to  my  father,  and  tell  him  what  I  have  here 
witnessed!  He  will  listen  to  me;  and  his  tongue  will  still 
have  strength  enough  to  pronounce  your  sentence  of 
death!  Oh,  my  mother  died  on  the  scaffold,  and  yet  she 
was  innocent.  We  will  see,  forsooth,  whether  you  will 
escape  the  scaffold — you,  who  are  guilty! '" 

"  Well,  then,  go  to  your  father,"  said  Catharine;  "  go 
and  accuse  me.  But  first  you  shall  hear  me.  This  man 
whom  I  loved,  I  wanted  to  renounce,  in  order  to  give  him 
to  you.  By  the  confession  of  your  love,  you  had  crushed 
my  happiness  and  my  future.  But  I  was  not  angry  with 
you.  I  understood  you  heart,  for  Thomas  Seymour  is 
worthy  of  being  loved.  But  you  are  right;  for  the  kind's 
wife  it  was  a  sinful  love,  however  innocent  and  pure  I 
may  have  been.  On  that  account  I  wanted  to  renounce  it; 
on  that  account  I  wanted,  on  the  first  confession  from  you, 
to  silently  sacrifice  myself.  You  yourself  have  now  made 
it  an  impossibility.  Go,  then,  and  accuse  us  to  your  fa- 
ther, and  fear  not  that  I  will  belie  my  heart.  Now,  that 
the  crisis  has  come,  it  shall  find  me  prepared;  and  on  the 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  419 

scaffold  I  will  still  account  myself  blest,  for  Thomas  Sey- 
mour loves  me! " 

"  Ay,  he  loves  you,  Catharine ! "  cried  he,  completely 
overcome  and  enchanted  by  her  noble,  majestic  bearing. 
"  He  loves  you  so  warmly  and  ardently,  that  death  with 
you  seems  to  him  an  enviable  lot;  and  he  would  not  ex- 
change it  for  any  throne  nor  for  any  crown." 

And  as  he  thus  spoke,  he  put  his  arms  around  Catha- 
rine's neck,  and  impetuously  drew  her  to  his  heart. 

Elizabeth  uttered  a  fierce  scream,  and  sprang  to  the 
door.  But  what  noise  was  that  which  all  at  once  drew 
nigh;  which  suddenly,  like  a  wild  billow,  came  roaring  on, 
and  filled  the  anterooms  and  the  halls?  What  were  these 
affrighted,  shrieking  voices  calling?  What  were  they 
screaming  to  the  queen,  and  the  physicians,  and  the 
priest? 

Elizabeth  stopped  amazed,  and  listened.  Thomas  Sey- 
mour and  Catharine,  arm  linked  in  arm,  stood  near  her. 
They  scarcely  heard  what  was  taking  place;  they  looked 
at  each  other  and  smiled,  and  dreamed  of  love  and  death 
and  an  eternity  of  happiness. 

Now  the  door  flew  open;  there  was  seen  John  Hey- 
wood's  pale  face;  there  were  the  maids  of  honor  and  the 
court  officials.  And  all  shrieked  and  all  wailed:  "  The 
king  is  dying!  He  is  struck  with  apoplexy!  The  king  is 
at  the  point  of  death!  " 

"  The  king  calls  you!  The  king  desires  to  die  in  the 
arms  of  his  wife! "  said  John  Hey  wood,  and,  as  he  quietly 
pushed  Elizabeth  aside  and  away  from  the  door  as  she  was 
pressing  violently  forward,  he  added:  "The  king  will  see 
nobody  but  his  wife  and  the  priest;  and  he  has  authorized 
me  to  call  the  queen!  " 

He  opened  the  door;  and  through  the  lines  of  weeping 
and  wailing  court  officials  and  servants,  Catharine  moved 
on,  to  go  to  the  death-bed  of  her  royal  husband. 


420  HENRY    VJ11.    AND    HIS    COURT. 

CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

"LE   ROI    EST   MORT — VIVE   LA   HEINE!  " 

KING  HENRY  lay  a-dying.  That  life  full  of  sin,  full  of 
blood  and  crime,  full  of  treachery  and  cunning,  full  of 
hypocrisy  and  sanctimonious  cruelty — that  life  was  at  last 
lived  out.  That  hand,  which  had  signed  so  many  death- 
warrants,  was  now  clutched  in  the  throes  of  death.  It  had 
stiffened  at  the  very  moment  when  the  king  was  going 
to  sign  the  Duke  of  Norfolk's  death-warrant.*  And  the 
king  was  dying  with  the  gnawing  consciousness  that  he 
had  no  longer  the  power  to  throttle  that  enemy  whom  he 
hated.  The  mighty  king  was  now  nothing  more  than  a 
feeble,  dying  old  man,  who  was  no  longer  able  to  hold  the 
pen  and  sign  this  death-warrant  for  which  he  had  so  long 
hankered  and  hoped.  Now  it  lay  before  him,  and  he  no 
longer  had  the  power  to  use  it.  God,  in  His  wisdom  and 
His  justice,  had  decreed  against  him  the  most  grievous 
and  horrible  of  punishments;  He  had  left  him  his  con- 
sciousness; He  had  not  crippled  him  in  mind,  but  in  body 
only.  And  that  motionless  and  rigid  mass  which,  growing 
chill  in  death,  lay  there  on  the  couch  of  purple  trimmed 
with  gold — that  was  the  king — a  king  whom  agony  of  con- 
science did  not  permit  to  die,  and  who  now  shuddered  and 
was  horrified  in  view  of  death,  to  which  he  had,  with 
relentless  cruelty,  hunted  so  many  of  his  subjects. 

Catharine  and  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  the  noble 
Cranmer,  stood  at  his  bedside:  and  whilst  in  convulsive 
agony  he  grasped  Catharine's  hands,  he  listened  to  the 
devout  prayers  which  Cranmer  was  saying  over  him. 

Once   he   asked   with   mumbling  tongue:    "  My  lord, 
what  kind  of  a  world  then  is  that  where  those  who  con- 
demn others  to  die,  are  condemned  to  die  themselves?  "  f 
And  as  the  pious  Cranmer,  touched  by  the  agonies  and  tor- 
tures of  conscience  which  he  read  in  the  king's  looks,  and 

*  Historical.         f  The  king's  own  words. — Ijeti,  vol.  i,  p.  16. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT.  421 

full  of  pity  for  the  dying  tyrant,  sought  to  comfort  him, 
and  spoke  to  him  of  the  mercy  of  God  which  has  compas- 
sion on  every  sinner,  the  king  groaned  out:  "  No,  no!  No 
mercy  for  him  who  knew  no  mercy!  " 

At  length  this  awful  struggle  of  death  with  life  was 
ended;  and  death  had  vanquished  life.  The  king  had 
dosed  his  eyes  to  earth,  to  open  them  again  there  above, 
as  a  guilt-laden  sinner  in  the  presence  of  God. 

For  three  days  his  death  was  kept  a  secret.  They 
wanted  first  to  have  everything  arranged,  and  to  fill  up 
the  void  which  his  death  must  make.  They  wanted,  when 
they  spoke  to  the  people  of  the  dead  king,  to  show  them 
also  at  the  same  time  the  living  king.  And  since  they 
knew  that  the  people  would  not  weep  for  the  dead,  they 
were  to  rejoice  for  the  living;  since  they  would  sing  no 
funeral  psalms,  they  were  to  let  their  hymns  of  joy 
resound. 

On  the  third  day  the  gates  of  Whitehall  were  thrown 
open,  and  a  gloomy  funeral  train  moved  through  the 
streets  of  London.  In  dead  silence  the  populace  saw 
borne  past  them  the  coffin  of  the  king,  before  whom  they 
had  trembled  so  much,  and  for  whom  they  now  had  not  a 
word  of  mourning  or  of  pity — no  tears  for  the  dead  who 
for  seven-and-thirty  years  had  been  their  king. 

They  were  bearing  the  coffin  to  Westminster  Abbey  to 
the  splendid  monument  which  Wolsey  had  built  there  for 
his  royal  master.  But  the  way  was  long,  and  the  panting 
horses  with  black  housings,  which  drew  the  hearse,  had 
often  to  stop  and  rest.  And  all  of  a  sudden,  as  the  car- 
riage stood  still  on  one  of  the  large  open  squares,  blood 
was  seen  to  issue  from  the  king's  coffin.  It  streamed  down 
in  crimson  currents  and  flowed  over  the  stones  of  the 
streets.  The  people  with  a  shudder  stood  around  and  saw 
the  king's  blood  flowing,  and  thought  how  much  blood  he 
had  spilt  on  that  same  spot,  for  the  coffin  was  standing  on 
the  square  where  the  executions  were  wont  to  take  place, 
and  where  the  scaffolds  were  erected  and  the  stakes  set. 


422  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

As  the  people  stood  gazing  at  the  blood  which  flowed 
from  the  king's  coffin,  two  dogs  sprang  forth  from  the 
crowd  and,  with  greedy  tongue,  licked  the  blood  of  King 
Henry  the  Eighth.  But  the  people,  shuddering  and  hor- 
ror-stricken, fled  in  all  directions,  and  talked  among  them- 
selves of  the  poor  priest  who  a  few  weeks  before  was  exe- 
cuted here  on  this  very  spot,  because  he  would  not  recog- 
nize the  king  as  the  supreme  lord  of  the  Church  and  God's 
vicegerent;  of  that  unfortunate  man  who  cursed  the 
king,  and  on  the  scaffold  said:  "May  the  dogs  one  day 
drink  the  blood  of  this  king  who  has  shed  so  much  inno- 
cent blood! "  And  now  the  curse  of  the  dying  man  had 
found  its  fulfilment,  and  the  dogs  had  drunk  the  king's 
blood.* 

\Yhen  the  gloomy  funeral  train  had  left  the  palace  of 
Whitehall,  when  the  king's  corpse  no  longer  infected  the 
halls  with  its  awful  stench  of  corruption,  and  the  court 
was  preparing  to  do  homage  to  the  boy  Edward  as  the  new 
king,  Thomas  Seymour,  Earl  of  Sudley,  entered  the  room 
of  the  young  royal  widow.  He  came  in  a  magnificent 
mourning  suit,  and  his  elder  brother,  Edward  Seymour, 
and  Cranmer,  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  walked  by  his 
side. 

With  a  blush  and  a  sweet  smile,  Catharine  bade  them 
welcome. 

"  Queen,"  said  Thomas  Seymour  with  solemn  air,  "  T 
come  to-day  to  claim  of  you  the  fulfilment  of  your  vow! 
Oh,  do  not  cast  down  your  eyes,  nor  blush  for  shame.  The 
noble  archbishop  knows  your  heart,  and  he  knows  that  it  is 
as  pure  as  the  heart  of  a  maiden,  and  that  an  unchaste 
thought  has  never  sullied  your  pure  soul.  And  my 
brother  would  not  be  here,  had  he  not  faith  in  and  respect 
for  a  love  which  has  preserved  itself  so  faithful  and  con- 
stant amidst  storms  and  dangers.  I  have  selected  these 
two  noble  friends  as  my  suitors,  and  in  their  presence  I 
will  ask  you:  '  Queen  Catharine,  the  king  is  dead,  and  no 

*  Historical.— See  Tytler,  p.  481. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  423 

fetters  longer  bind  your  heart;  will  you  not  give  it  me  as 
my  own?  Will  you  accept  me  as  your  husband,  and  sacri- 
fice for  me  your  royal  title  and  your  exalted  position? '  " 

With  a  bewitching  smile  she  gave  him  her  hand. 
"  You  well  know,"  whispered  she,  "  that  I  sacrifice  nothing 
for  you,  but  receive  from  you  all  of  happiness  and  love  that 
I  hope  for." 

"  Will  you  then,  in  the  presence  of  these  two  friends, 
accept  me  as  your  future  husband,  and  plight  me  your  vow 
of  truth  and  love?  " 

Catharine  trembled  and  cast  down  her  eyes  with  the 
bashfulness  of  a  young  girl.  "  Alas! "  whispered  she, 
"  do  you  not  then  see  my  mourning  dress?  Is  it  becoming 
to  think  of  happiness,  while  the  funeral  lamentations  have 
scarcely  died  away?" 

"  Queen  Catharine,"  said  Archbishop  Cranmer,  "  let 
the  dead  bury  their  dead!  Life  also  has  its  rights;  and 
man  should  not  give  up  his  claim  on  happiness,  for  it  is  a 
most  holy  possession.  You  have  endured  much  and  suf- 
fered much,  queen,  but  your  heart  is  pure  and  without 
guilt;  therefore  you  may  now,  with  a  clear  conscience, 
bid  welcome  to  happiness  also.  Do  not  delay  about  it.  In 
God's  name  I  have  come  to  bless  your  love,  and  give  to 
your  happiness  a  holy  consecration." 

"  And  I,"  said  Edward  Seymour,  "  I  have  begged  of  my 
brother  the  honor  of  being  allowed  to  accompany  him  in 
order  to  say  to  your  majesty  that  I  know  how  to  duly 
appreciate  the  high  honor  which  you  show  our  family,  and 
that,  as  your  brother-in-law,  I  shall  ever  be  mindful  that 
you  were  once  my  queen  and  I  your  subject." 

"  But  I,"  cried  Thomas  Seymour,  "  I  would  not  delay 
coming  to  you,  in  order  that  I  might  show  you  that  love 
only  brings  me  to  you,  and  that  no  other  consideration 
could  induce  me.  The  king's  will  is  not  yet  opened,  and  I 
know  not  its  contents.  But  however  it  may  determine 
with  respect  to  all  of  us,  it  cannot  diminish  or  increase  my 
happiness  in  possessing  you.  Whatever  you  may  be,  you 


424  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

will  ever  be  to  me  only  the  adored  woman,  the  ardently 
loved  wife;  and  only  to  assure  you  of  this,  I  have  come 
this  very  day." 

Catharine  extended  her  hand  to  him  with  a  bewitching 
smile.  "  I  have  never  doubted  of  you,  Seymour,"  whis- 
pered she,  "  and  never  did  I  love  you  more  ardently  than 
when  I  wanted  to  renounce  you." 

She  bowed  her  head  on  her  lover's  shoulder,  and  tears 
of  purest  joy  bedewed  her  cheeks.  The  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  joined  their  hands,  and  blessed  them  as  be- 
trothed lovers;  and  the  elder  Seymour,  Earl  Hertford, 
bowed  and  greeted  them  as  a  betrothed  couple. 

On  that  very  same  day  the  king's  will  was  opened.  In 
the  large  gilded  hall,  in  which  King  Henry's  merry  laugh- 
ter and  thundering  voice  of  wrath  had  so  often  resounded, 
were  now  read  his  last  commands.  The  whole  court  was 
assembled,  as  it  was  wont  to  be  for  a  joyous  festival;  and 
Catharine  once  more  sat  on  the  royal  throne.  But  the 
dreaded  tyrant,  the  bloodthirsty  King  Henry  the  Eighth, 
was  no  longer  at  her  side;  but  the  poor  pale  boy,  Edward, 
who  had  inherited  from  his  father  neither  energy  nor 
genius,  but  only  his  thirst  for  blood  and  his  canting  hypoc- 
risy. At  his  side  stood  his  sisters,  the  Princesses  Mary 
and  Elizabeth.  Both  were  pale  and  of  a  sad  countenance; 
but  with  both,  it  was  not  for  their  father  that  they  were 
grieving. 

Mary,  the  bigoted  Roman  Catholic,  saw  with  horror 
and  bitter  anguish  the  days  of  adversity  which  were 
about  to  befall  her  church;  for  Edward  was  a  fanatical 
opponent  of  the  Roman  Catholic  religion,  and  she  knew 
that  he  would  shed  the  blood  of  the  papists  with  relentless 
cruelty.  On  this  account  it  was  that  she  mourned. 

But  Elizabeth,  that  young  girl  of  ardent  heart — she 
thought  neither  of  her  father  nor  of  the  clangers  threaten- 
ing the  Church;  she  thought  only  of  her  love,  she  felt 
only  that  she  had  been  deprived  of  a  hope,  of  an  illusion — 
that  ibe  bad  awoke  from  a  sweet  end  onebanting  dream  to 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  435 

the  rude  and  barren  reality.  She  had  given  up  her  first 
love,  but  her  heart  bled  and  the  wound  still  smarted. 

The  will  was  read.  Elizabeth  looked  toward  Thomas 
Seymour  during  this  solemn  and  portentous  reading.  She 
wanted  to  read  in  his  countenance  the  impression  made  on 
him  by  these  grave  words,  so  pregnant  with  the  future; 
she  wanted  to  search  the  depths  of  his  soul,  and  to  pene- 
trate the  secret  thoughts  of  his  heart.  She  saw  how  he 
turned  pale  when,  not  Queen  Catharine,  but  his  brother, 
Earl  Hertford,  was  appointed  regent  during  Edward's 
minority;  she  saw  the  sinister,  almost  angry  look  which  he 
threw  at  the  queen;  and  with  a  cruel  smile  she  murmured: 
"  I  am  revenged!  He  loves  her  no  longer! " 

John  Heywood,  who  was  standing  behind  the  queen's 
throne,  had  also  observed  the  look  of  Thomas  Seymour,  yet 
not  like  Elizabeth,  with  a  rejoicing,  but  with  a  sorrowful 
heart,  and  he  dropped  his  head  upon  his  breast  and  mur- 
mured: "  Poor  Catharine!  He  will  hate  her,  and  she  will 
be  very  unhappy." 

But  she  was  still  happy.  Her  eye  beamed  with  pure 
delight  when  she  perceived  that  her  lover  was,  by  the 
king's  will,  appointed  High  Admiral  of  England  and 
guardian  of  the  young  king.  She  thought  not  of  herself, 
but  only  of  him,  of  her  lover;  and  it  filled  her  with  the 
proudest  satisfaction  to  see  him  invested  with  places  of 
such  high  honor  and  dignity. 

Poor  Catharine!  Her  eye  did  not  see  the  sullen  cloud 
which  still  rested  on  the  brow  of  her  beloved.  She  was 
so  happy  and  so  innocent,  and  so  little  ambitious!  For  her 
this  only  was  happiness,  to  be  her  lover's,  to  be  the  wife  of 
Thomas  Seymour. 

And  this  happiness  was  to  be  hers.  Thirty  days  after 
the  death  of  King  Henry  the  Eighth  she  became  the  wife 
of  the  high  admiral,  Thomas  Seymour,  Earl  of  Sudley. 
Archbishop  Cranmer  solemnized  their  union  in  the  chapel 
at  Whitehall,  and  the  lord  protector,  now  Duke  of  Somer- 
set, formerly  Earl  of  Hertford,  the  brother  of  Thomas  Sey- 
28 


426  HENRY    VIII.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

mour,  was  the  witness  of  this  marriage,  which  was,  how- 
ever, still  kept  a  secret,  and  of  which  there  were  to  be  no 
other  witnesses.  When,  however,  they  resorted  to  the 
chapel  for  the  marriage,  Princess  Elizabeth  came  forward 
to  meet  the  queen,  and  offered  her  hand. 

It  was  the  first  time  they  had  met  since  the  dreadful 
day  on  which  they  confronted  each  other  as  enemies — 
the  first  time  that  they  had  again  seen  each  other  eye 
to  eye. 

Elizabeth  had  wrung  this  sacrifice  from  her  heart. 
Her  proud  soul  revolted  at  the  thought  that  Thomas  Sey- 
mour might  imagine  that  she  was  still  grieving  for  him, 
that  she  still  loved  him.  She  would  show  him  that  her 
heart  was  entirely  recovered  from  that  first  dream  of  her 
youth — that  she  had  not  the  least  regret  or  pain. 

She  accosted  him  with  a  haughty,  cold  smile,  and  pre- 
sented Catharine  her  hand.  "  Queen,"  said  she,  "  you 
have  so  long  been  a  kind  and  faithful  mother  to  me,  that  I 
may  well  once  more  claim  the  right  of  being  your  daugh- 
ter. Let  me,  therefore,  as  your  daughter,  be  present  at 
the  solemn  transaction  in  which  you  are  about  to  engage; 
and  allow  me  to  stand  at  your  side  and  pray  for  you,  whilst 
the  archbishop  performs  the  sacred  service,  and  trans- 
forms the  queen  into  the  Countess  of  Sudley.  May  God 
bless  you,  Catharine,  and  give  you  all  the  happiness  that 
you  deserve! " 

And  Princess  Elizabeth  knelt  at  Catharine's  side,  as 
the  archbishop  blest  this  new  marriage  tie.  And  while  she 
prayed  her  eye  again  glided  over  toward  Thomas  Seymour, 
who  was  standing  there  by  his  young  wife.  Catharine's 
countenance  beamed  with  beauty  and  happiness,  but  upon 
Thomas  Seymour's  brow  still  lay  the  cloud  that  had  settled 
there  on  that  day  when  the  king's  will  was  opened — that 
will  which  did  not  make  Queen  Catharine  regent,  and 
which  thereby  destroyed  Thomas  Seymour's  proud  and 
ambitious  schemes. 

And  that  cloud  remained  on  Thomas  Seymour's  brow. 


HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COURT.  427 

It  sank  down  lower  and  still  lower.  It  soon  overshadowed 
the  happiness  of  Catharine's  love,  and  awakened  her  from 
her  short  dream  of  bliss. 

What  she  suffered,  how  much  of  secret  agony  and  si- 
lent woe  she  endured,  who  can  wish  to  know  or  conjecture? 
Catharine  had  a  proud  and  a  chaste  soul.  She  concealed 
from  the  world  her  pain  and  her  grief,  as  bashfully  as  she 
had  once  done  her  love.  Nobody  suspected  what  she  suf- 
fered and  how  she  struggled  with  her  crushed  heart. 

She  never  complained;  she  saw  bloom  after  bloom  fall 
from  her  life;  she  saw  the  smile  disappear  from  her  hus- 
band's countenance;  she  heard  his  voice,  at  first  so  tender, 
gradually  harden  to  harsher  tones;  she  felt  his  heart  grow- 
ing colder  and  colder,  and  his  love  changing  into  indiffer- 
ence, perhaps  even  into  hate. 

She  had  devoted  her  whole  heart  to  love,  but  she  felt 
day  by  day,  and  hour  by  hour,  that  her  husband's  heart 
was  cooling  more  and  more.  She  felt,  with  dreadful 
heartrending  certainty,  she  was  his  with  all  her  love. 
But  he  was  no  longer  hers. 

And  she  tormented  her  heart  to  find  out  why  he  no 
longer  loved  her — what  she  had  been  guilty  of,  that  he 
turned  away  from  her.  Seymour  had  not  the  delicacy  and 
magnanimity  to  conceal  from  her  his  fnward  thoughts; 
and  at  last  she  comprehended  why  he  neglected  her. 

He  had  hoped  that  Catharine  would  be  Regent  of  Eng- 
land, that  he  then  would  be  consort  of  the  regent.  Be- 
cause it  had  not  hapened  so,  his  love  had  died. 

Catharine  felt  this,  and  she  died  of  it.  But  not  sud- 
denly, not  at  once,  did  death  release  her  from  her  sorrows 
and  racking  tortures.  Six  months  she  had  to  suffer  and 
struggle  with  them.  After  six  months  she  died. 

Strange  rumors  were  spread  at  her  death;  and  John 
Heywood  never  passed  by  Earl  Seymour  without  gazing  at 
him  with  an  angry  look,  and  saying:  "You  have  mur- 
dered the  beautiful  queen!  Deny  it,  if  you  can!  " 

Thomas   Seymour  laughed,  and   did  not  consider  it 


4-J.s  HENRY    VIII.    AND    HIS    COUBT. 

worth  his  while  to  defend  himself  against  the  accusations 
of  the  fool.  He  laughed,  notwithstanding  he  had  not  yet 
put  off  the  mourning  he  wore  for  Catharine. 

In  these  mourning  garments  he  ventured  to  approach 
the  Princess  Elizabeth,  to  swear  to  her  his  ardent  love, 
and  sue  for  her  hand.  But  Elizabeth  repelled  him  with 
coldness  and  haughty  contempt;  and,  like  the  fool,  the 
princess  also  said:  "You  have  murdered  Catharine!  I 
cannot  be  the  wife  of  a  murderer!  " 

And  God's  justice  punished  the  murderer  of  the  inno- 
cent and  noble  Catharine:  and  scarcely  three  months  after 
the  death  of  his  wife,  the  high  admiral  had  to  ascend  the 
scaffold,  and  was  executed  a?  a  traitor. 

By  Catharine's  wish,  her  books  and  papers  were  given 
to  her  true  friend  John  Heywood,  and  he  undertook  with 
the  greatest  care  an  examination  of  the  same.  He  found 
among  her  papers  many  leaves  written  by  herself,  many 
verses  and  poems,  which  breathed  forth  the  sorrowfulness 
of  her  spirit.  Catharine  herself  had  collected  them  into  a 
book,  and  with  her  own  hand  she  had  given  to  the  book 
this  title:  "Lamentations  of  a  Sinner" 

Catharine  had  wept  much  as  she  penned  these  "  Lam- 
entations"; for  in  many  places  the  manuscript  was  illegi- 
ble, and  her  tears  had  obliterated  the  characters. 

John  Heywood  kissed  the  spots  where  the  traces  of  her 
tears  remained,  and  whispered:  "  The  sinner  has  by  her 
suffering  been  glorified  into  a  saint;  and  these  poems  are 
the  cross  and  the  monument  which  she  has  prepared  for 
her  own  grave.  I  will  set  up  this  cross,  that  the  good  may 
take  comfort,  and  the  wicked  flee  from  it."  And  he  did 
so.  He  had  the  "Lamentations  of  a  Sinner"  printed; 
and  this  book  was  the  fairest  monument  of  Catharine. 


(4) 
THE   END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


AUG  161945 
NOV  1  > 


AUG  2  1  193? 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

AT 

LOS  ANGELES 
LIBRARY 


A    001  208437    2 


FT 
2438 

MK8B 
1905 


